The Wonderful Adventure of Nils Holgersson

by Selma Lagerlof

  ‘Spread the grass out on the ice now, so that I have something to stand on and don’t get frozen stuck! If you help me, then I’ll help you!’ said the gander.

  The boy did that, and when he was done the gander grasped him again by the neckband and stuck him in under his wing. ‘There, I think you’ll be nice and warm,’ he said, pressing with his wing.

  The boy was so embedded in down that he could not answer, but lying there was warm and cosy and he was tired, and he fell asleep within a moment.

  Night

  The truth is that ice is always faithless and nothing to rely on. In the middle of the night the landless crust of ice moved on Vombsjön, so that in one place it happened to bump up against the shore. It so happened the Smirre Fox, who at that time was living on the east side of the lake on the park-like grounds of Övedskloster, noticed this place when he was out on his nocturnal hunt. Smirre had already seen the wild geese that evening, but he had not dared hope to be able to get at any of them. Now he made his way out on to the ice.

  When Smirre was very close to the wild geese, he happened to slip, so that his claws scraped against the ice. The geese awoke and flapped their wings to throw themselves up into the air. But Smirre was too quick for them. He lunged forwards, as if he had been thrown, seized a goose by the wing-bone and rushed back again towards land.

  But this night the wild geese were not alone out on the ice; instead they had a human among them, little as he was. The boy woke up when the gander spread his wings. He had fallen down on the ice and remained sitting, half-asleep. He had not understood any of the commotion until he saw a little, short-legged dog running away across the ice with a goose in its mouth.

  The boy hurried after at once to take the goose from that dog. He probably heard the gander calling after him, ‘Watch out, Thumbkin! Watch out!’ But the boy thought that he didn’t need to be afraid of such a little dog, and stormed off.

  The wild goose that Smirre Fox dragged with him heard the clatter when the boy’s wooden shoes struck against the ice and she could hardly believe her ears. ‘Does that little fellow intend to take me from the fox?’ she wondered. As miserable a state as she was in, she started cackling merrily deep down in her throat, almost as if she were laughing.

  ‘The first thing that will happen to him is that he will fall down into a crack in the ice,’ she thought.

  But as dark as the night was, the boy saw all the cracks and holes in the ice clearly, and took bold leaps across them. That was because he now had the good night vision of the gnomes and could see in the dark. He saw both lake and shore equally clearly, as if it had been daylight.

  Smirre Fox left the ice where it bumped against land, and just as he was working his way up the slope of the shore, the boy called to him, ‘Put down the goose, you scoundrel!’ Smirre did not know who was calling, and did not take time to turn around, but instead just picked up speed.

  The fox now made his way into a forest of large, magnificent beech trees, and the boy followed without a thought that he might be in any danger. On the other hand, he was thinking the whole time about how scornfully he had been received by the wild geese the night before, and he really wanted to show them that a human is still a bit superior to everything else in creation.

  He called again and again to that dog to get him to set down his prey. ‘What kind of dog are you, not to be ashamed of stealing a whole goose?’ he said. ‘Put her down at once, otherwise you’ll see what a beating you get! Set her down, otherwise I’ll tell the farmer how you behave!’

  When Smirre Fox noticed that he had been taken for a dog afraid of a beating, he found this so comical that he was about to drop the goose. Smirre was a master thief, who was not content simply to hunt rats and voles in the fields, but also ventured up to farms to steal hens and geese. He knew that he was feared across the whole region. He had not heard anything so crazy since he was a little cub.

  But the boy ran so fast that he thought the thick beeches were gliding backwards past him and he caught up with Smirre. Finally he was so close to him that he got hold of his tail. ‘Now I’m taking the goose from you anyway!’ he called and held on as best he could. But he did not have strength enough to stop Smirre. The fox pulled him along, so that the dry beech leaves whirled around him.

  But now Smirre seemed to have realized how harmless his pursuer was. He stopped, set the goose down on the ground and placed his front feet on her so that she could not fly away. He was just about to bite off her throat, but prior to this he could not refrain from teasing the imp a little. ‘Hurry off and complain to the farmer, because now I’m killing the goose!’ he said.

  If anyone was surprised when he saw what a sharp nose and heard what a hoarse and angry voice the dog that he had pursued had, it was probably the boy. But he was also so angry that the fox was making fun of him that he did not think about being afraid. He grasped the tail more firmly, braced himself against a beech root, and just as the fox held his jaws over the goose’s throat, he tugged for all he was worth. Smirre was so surprised that he let himself be pulled backwards a couple of steps, and the wild goose was free. She flapped heavily upwards. One of her wings was injured, so she could barely use it, and added to that she could not see a thing in the dark forest, but instead was as helpless as if she were blind. For that reason she could not help the boy in any way, so instead she escaped through a gap in the forest canopy and flew down to the lake again.

  But Smirre threw himself towards the boy. ‘If I don’t get one, then I’ll just have the other,’ he said, and in his voice you could hear how wicked he was. ‘No, you shouldn’t think that you will,’ the boy said, quite exhilarated because he had rescued the goose. He was still holding firmly on to the fox tail and turned with it over to the other side, when the fox tried to capture him.

  It became a dance in the forest that made the beech leaves whirl. Smirre twirled around and around, but his tail twirled too, and the boy held on firmly to it, so that the fox could not seize him.

  The boy was so cheerful after this success, that to start with he just laughed and made fun of the fox, but Smirre was persistent, as old hunters often are, and the boy started to fear that he would be captured at last.

  Then he caught sight of a small young beech, which had shot up in height as slender as a stick to soon reach the free air above the canopy, which the old beeches formed over it. He suddenly let go of the fox’s tail and climbed up the beech. Smirre Fox was so eager that he continued to dance around after his tail a long time. ‘Don’t bother to dance any more!’ said the boy.

  But Smirre could not put up with the disgrace of not getting the better of such a little imp, and he lay down at the foot of the tree to wait him out.

  The boy was not in a good way where he sat, riding on a weak branch. The young beech did not yet reach up to the high canopy. He could not get over to another tree, and he did not dare climb down to the ground.

  He was so cold that he was about to get numb and let go of the branch, and he was terribly sleepy, but he did not dare fall asleep, fearing he would fall down.

  It was unbelievable how ghastly it was sitting like that at night out in the forest. He had never known before what night really meant. It was as if the whole world had been petrified and would never come back to life again.

  Then it started to get light and the boy was happy because everything became like itself again, although the cold felt even sharper than before during the night.

  When the sun finally came up, it was not yellow but red. The boy thought it looked angry and he wondered what it was angry about. Perhaps it was because the night had made it so cold and gloomy on the Earth, while the sun had been away.r />
  The sunbeams shot ahead in big bundles to see what the night had done, and it was evident how all things blushed, as if they had a bad conscience. The clouds in the sky, the silky-smooth beech trunks, the small, intertwined branches of the forest ceiling, the frost that covered the beech leaves on the ground, all flared up and turned red.

  But more and more bundles of rays shot through space, and soon all the awfulness of the night had been driven away. The petrifaction was gone, and then a remarkable number of living things emerged. The black woodpecker with the red neck started hammering with its beak against a tree trunk. The squirrel scampered out of its nest with a nut, sat on a branch and started shelling it. The starling came flying with a bundle of roots, and the chaffinch sang in the treetops.

  Then the boy understood that the sun had said to all these small things, ‘Wake up now and come out of your nests! Now I’m here. Now you don’t need to be afraid of anything.’

  From the lake the call of the wild geese was heard as they prepared themselves for flight. Immediately after that all fourteen geese came flying over the forest. The boy tried to call to them, but they were flying so high up that his voice could not reach them. They probably thought that the fox had eaten him up long ago. They did not even bother to search for him.

  The boy was on the verge of tears from anxiety, but the sun was now standing golden yellow and happy in the sky, filling the whole world with courage. ‘It’s not worth it, Nils Holgersson, for you to be anxious or worried about anything, as long as I’m around,’ said the sun.

  GOOSE GAMES

  Monday, 21 March

  Everything remained unchanged in the forest for about as long as a goose needs to have her breakfast, but just as early morning was turning to forenoon, a solitary wild goose came flying under the dense forest canopy. She made her way hesitantly forwards between trunks and branches, flying very slowly. As soon as Smirre Fox saw her, he left his place under the young beech and sneaked towards her. The wild goose did not avoid the fox, but instead flew rather close to him. Smirre made a high leap after her, but missed and the goose continued down towards the lake.

  It didn’t take long before another wild goose came flying. She took the same route as the first and flew even lower and more slowly. She too went close by Smirre Fox and he made such a high leap after her that his ears grazed her feet, but she avoided him, unscathed, and continued as silent as a shadow on her way towards the lake.

  A short time passed and again a wild goose came. She flew even lower and more slowly, seeming to have even more difficulty making her way between the beech trunks. Smirre made a tremendous leap and he was only a hair’s-breadth away from catching her, but this goose too escaped.

  Right after she disappeared came a fourth wild goose. Although she flew so slowly and poorly that Smirre believed he could catch her without any great difficulty, he was now afraid of failing and intended to let her fly past unmolested. But she took the same route as the others and just as she was right over Smirre, she sank so low that he was enticed into jumping after her. He reached so high that he touched her with his paw, but she quickly threw herself to the side and saved her life.

  Before Smirre had stopped panting, three geese in a row were seen. They flew ahead in the same way as the others and Smirre made high leaps after them all, but he did not succeed in catching any of them.

  Then came five geese, but these flew better than the previous ones, and although they also seemed to want to coax Smirre to jump, he resisted the temptation.

  A really long time later came a solitary goose. It was the thirteenth. This one was so old that she was completely grey and did not have a dark streak on her body. She did not seem to really be able to use one wing and flew pitifully poorly and crooked, so that she was almost touching the ground. Smirre not only made a great leap after her, instead he pursued her, running and jumping all the way down to the lake, but he did not get any reward for his efforts this time either.

  When the fourteenth one came, it looked very beautiful, because it was white, and glistened like a clearing in the dark forest as it waved its white wings. When Smirre saw it, he summoned all his strength and jumped halfway to the canopy, but the white goose went past completely unscathed, just like the others.

  Now it was quiet for a while under the beeches. It appeared as if the entire flock of wild geese had gone past.

  Suddenly Smirre remembered his captive and raised his eyes towards the young beech. As expected, the imp was gone.

  But Smirre did not have much time to think about him, because now the first goose came back from the lake and flew slowly like before under the canopy. Despite all his bad luck Smirre was happy that she came back, and he rushed after her with a high jump. But he was in too much of a hurry and did not give himself time to calculate the leap, but instead ended up on one side of her.

  After this goose came yet another and a third, a fourth, a fifth, until the cycle was ended with the old ice-grey and the large white one. They all flew slowly and low. Just as they hovered over Smirre Fox, they came down, as if they were inviting him to capture them. And Smirre pursued them and made jumps that were six feet high or more, but he was not able to catch a single one of them.

  It was the most awful day that Smirre Fox had ever known. The wild geese flew ceaselessly over his head, coming and going, coming and going. Big, magnificent geese, fattened up on German fields and moors, hovered the whole day long through the forest so close to him that many times he touched them, and he could not quiet his hunger with a single one.

  Winter was still barely over and Smirre remembered days and nights when he had to wander around unoccupied without any quarry to hunt, when the migratory birds were gone, when the rats hid under the frozen ground and the hens were enclosed. But hunger had not been as hard to endure all winter as the miscalculation of this day.

  Smirre was not a young fox. Many a time he had had the dogs after him and heard bullets whistling around his ears. He had lain hidden deep in his lair, while the dachshunds crawled into the passageways and were close to finding him. But all the anxiety that Smirre had experienced during that stressful hunt was nothing compared to what he felt every time he failed to catch one of the wild geese.

  In the morning, when the game began, Smirre Fox had been so fine-looking that the geese were amazed when they saw him. Smirre loved splendour, and his coat was shining red, his chest was white, his nose black and his tail as bushy as a plume. But when evening came that day, Smirre’s coat was tangled, he was bathed in sweat, his eyes had no lustre, his tongue was hanging far out from his panting jaws, and foam was flowing from his mouth.

  In the afternoon Smirre was so tired that he was getting dizzy. He saw nothing but flying geese before his eyes. He took leaps towards patches of sun that he saw on the ground, and towards a poor tortoiseshell butterfly that had come out of its cocoon too soon.

  The wild geese were still tirelessly flying and flying. They continued to torment Smirre the whole day. It did not move them to sympathy that Smirre was worn out, worked up, crazy. They kept on implacably, although they understood that he hardly saw them, that he was making leaps after their shadows.

  Only when Smirre Fox sank down on a pile of dry leaves, completely weak and lifeless, almost ready to give up the ghost, did they stop making fun of him.

  ‘Now you know, Fox, what happens to anyone who dares to attack Akka from Kebnekaise,’ they called into his ear, and with that they left him in peace.

  Three

  Wild Bird Life

  AT THE FARM

  Thursday, 24 March

  At that same time an incident occurred in Skåne which was much discussed and even reported in the
newspapers, but which many believed to be fictional, because they could find no way to explain it.

  What happened was that a female squirrel had been caught in a hazel thicket growing on the shore of Vombsjön and carried to a nearby farm. All the people on the farm, both young and old, were delighted with the beautiful little animal with the big tail, the wise, curious eyes and the dainty little feet. They thought they would have all summer to enjoy watching its nimble movements, its handy way of shelling nuts and its merry games. They quickly fixed up an old squirrel cage, which consisted of a little house painted green and a squirrel-wheel made of steel wire. The squirrel would use the little house, which had a door and window, as kitchen and bedroom; for that reason they placed a bed of leaves there with a bowl of milk and some nuts. The wheel, on the other hand, she would have as a playhouse, where she could run and climb and swing around.

  The humans thought they had arranged things very well for the squirrel and were surprised that she didn’t look happy. Instead she sat in a corner of her room, sullen and sorrowful, and from time to time she let out a sharp cry of complaint. She did not touch the food and she did not once swing on the wheel. ‘It’s probably because she’s scared,’ the humans on the farm said. ‘Tomorrow, when she feels at home, she’s going to eat and play.’

  However, it so happened that the women on the farm were getting ready for a banquet and the very day that the squirrel was caught, they were busy with baking. And either they had bad luck with the dough not wanting to rise or else they were dawdling, because they had to work long after it was dark.

  There was naturally a lot of hustle and bustle in the kitchen and probably none of them took the time to wonder how the squirrel was. But there was an old woman in the house who was too advanced in age to help with the baking. She understood this, but even so she did not like being left out of everything. She felt sad and for that reason she did not go to bed, but instead sat by the window in the sitting room and looked out. In the kitchen they had propped open the door because of the heat, and through the open door a bright light streamed out on to the yard. It was an enclosed farm, with buildings connected around an interior yard, and it was so well lit up that the old woman could see cracks and holes in the plaster on the opposite wall. She also saw the squirrel cage, which was hanging right where the light fell the brightest, and she noticed how the squirrel was running all night from her room out into the wheel and from the wheel into her room without resting a moment. She thought there was a peculiar restlessness in the animal, but she assumed, of course, that the bright light was keeping it awake.