by Taffy Thomas
Then a cacophony announced the arrival of the chattering magpies. They found a rock to land on, and were still chattering as they landed:
One for sorrow,
Two for joy,
Three for a girl,
Four for a boy,
Five for silver,
Six for gold,
Seven for this story which has to be told.
Incidentally, some say that the last line of this rhyme should be ‘seven for a secret’, but you shouldn’t tell secrets, whereas you should tell stories.
As soon as all the birds had gathered there on the crag, the eagle started again: ‘What a waste of time! Me, I’m the biggest. I’m the best.’
And the hullet said, ‘Just a minute.’ He tiptoed along the line right to the end of the Organ, and there on the pipe of the Organ was the last to arrive, the smallest bird of all, the little jenny wren.
The hullet whispered something in the wren’s ear.
The wren just nodded then she turned and hopped all the way along the Organ and the Old Lady, hopped through the legs of the big black birds, and all the way round to the hawk posse. Then she climbed on the back of the golden eagle. She was so tiny that the eagle didn’t feel the tickling as she nuzzled down in his feathers.
The hullet went back three steps and said, ‘On your marks. Get set. Go!’
They all took to the air until the sky above Grasmere was black with birds. Indeed, they cast a shadow over Ambleside which has remained to this day.
All the birds soared high in the air, but the big black birds shot up faster than the rest. They had found a thermal. It was early summer, and as the air hit the warm rocks of the fells, it heated up. And of course hot air rises, so that draught of hot air lifted the big black birds – the rook and the raven, the jackdaw and the crow, and the hawks – until they were sailing up high above Helm Crag and Calf Crag, sailing high above the fells. As long as they stayed in that draught of warm air, they were fine.
But the small birds – the robins, the blue tits, the great tits, the finches and the sparrows – they started to tire. They drifted out of the warm air and hit the cooler air, and as soon as they hit the cooler air they started to come down.
They started to fall.
They started to descend.
And they landed back on the top of the Lamb, on the top of Helm Crag, back where they had started.
The next to come down were the magpies, still chattering all the way down:
One for sorrow,
Two for joy,
Three for a girl,
Four for a boy,
Five for silver,
Six for gold,
Seven for this story which has to be told.
They landed back on their rock and they looked up to the sky. There they could see the big, black birds, the rook, the raven, the jackdaw and the crow, still riding the thermal, sailing gracefully above the mountains and above the fells.
Soon they too had started to tire. They drifted out of the warm air, hit the cooler air, and they started their descent. As they came down, they landed back on top of the Lamb, on the top of Helm Crag.
That just left the hawk posse high in the air, soaring up there as only hawks can.
But now it was the small hawks’ turn to begin to tire – the falcon, the kestrel, the sparrowhawk, and even the osprey. They drifted sideways, and as soon as they hit the cooler air they dropped like stones. They came down and landed back on top of the Lion.
Together, all the birds looked up and could see just one speck remaining, high in the sky, and they knew that the speck was the golden eagle.
‘Well, he might be a boaster and a poser, but he was right,’ they agreed. ‘He is the biggest. He is the best. He’s still up there.’
At that moment, the golden eagle also started to tire. Certain that he had proved his point, he drifted sideways, hit some cooler air, and started to come down.
On his back, the little jenny wren felt the change in altitude and, as the eagle started to come down, she launched herself upwards. So for that one wonderful moment, the wren was going up while the eagle was coming down.
The eagle landed back on the Lion’s head. He turned and called out to all of the birds, even those perched on the Old Lady Playing the Organ, ‘You see! I’m the biggest. I’m the best. I’m the King of the Birds!’
And all the birds said, ‘But there’s still someone up there!’
The eagle looked up and, sure enough, there was a tiny, tiny speck, high in the sky – the speck that you know was little jenny wren. He let out a big gasp.
They all watched as the little jenny wren drifted very slowly down and landed on top of the Old Lady’s head, behind the Organ, then they all called across to her, ‘You see, jenny wren! You are the King of the Birds, because although you are the smallest in size, you are the biggest in wit.’ The wren was so pleased she started to sing.
THE WREN SONG
The wren, the wren is King of the Birds.
St Stephen’s Day she was stuck in the furze.
Although she was little, her wit it was great.
If you boast like an eagle, you might share his fate.
RED BANK, GRASMERE
Our popular Halloween event in Grasmere at the Storyteller’s Garden would not be complete without the story that follows. You might like to make it part of your family Halloween.
Halfway up Red Bank, the steep hill between Grasmere and Langdale, stands a big old house called Dale End. The roof has pointed, sticking-up bits called gables, so people who live in the area know the house by the name of Grasmere Gables. These locals know two things about Grasmere Gables: first, it’s haunted, and secondly, there’s treasure there! This story is about three great heroes who went to get the treasure from Grasmere Gables.
Now, you need to know a bit about these three great heroes. The oldest one was a boy about sixteen years old. Like many teenage boys, he spent hours in front of the mirror doing his hair. The worst thing that could happen to him would be a Bad Hair Day. He was also desperate for money, to save up for a new skateboard. He had two sisters. The older sister was 14; she was always pinching make-up from her mother’s make-up tray and needed money for the latest music or fashion item. These two teenagers had a toddler sister; she was still wearing a nappy. This nappy was pointed, like a bumblebee’s tail, and if you were lucky the pointed bit was empty. As yet not troubled by fashion or the need for money, the toddler went to the playgroup in Grasmere. This nursery was run by a wonderful, jolly woman called Mrs Happy. Now Mrs Happy taught the little ones that there was nothing to be frightened of in the dark, as there was nothing there in the dark that wasn’t there in the light. For this reason alone, the toddlers of Grasmere knew no fear.
One misty evening, these three children set out to get the treasure from Grasmere Gables. The mist was hanging waist-deep as they walked up Red Bank. In the swirling mist the shape of the old house towered above them. They paused at the two stone gateposts that marked the end of the drive, to discuss who was going in first. Of course the 16-year-old brother said it had to be him. He felt he had to prove to his sisters that he was cool and hard. The girls were happy to hold hands and watch their big brother disappear towards the front door of the house. Although he told them he wasn’t frightened, they could hear his knees knocking together like coconut shells.
Beyond their sight the big lad pushed open the heavy oak front door with the big iron knocker. A cobweb fell on to his head, spoiling his hairstyle. It was now a Bad Hair Day. Pulling the cobweb off, he squeezed through the door and then through the first door on the right, into the kitchen. There was a big wooden table, piled high with bags of treasure.
He was just about to help himself to the treasure when he shivered, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, as he heard a weird, shaky voice: ‘Ooooooohhhhhh – I am the Ghost of Grasmere Gables, and I say the treasure stays on the table.’ This was followed by a terrifying scream.
The l
ad ran out of the kitchen, through the wooden door and down the drive. He had a problem, as he couldn’t let his sisters know he was scared. They knew he was coming – they’d heard the scream. He ran up to them, quaking with fear but trying not to.
He just managed to blurt out, ‘It was gruesome. It was a big purple bogey! It had teeth like daggers and eyes like fires. Blood dripped from its teeth and snot dripped from its nose. It was awesome!’
Never to be seen as less than her brother, the 14-year-old sister announced that she would go in and get the treasure. She left the toddler trying to calm down her big brother, and set off up the gravel path towards the big oak door with the heavy iron knocker. She pushed the door open, anda cobweb fell on to her face, sticking to the make-up she’d borrowed from her mother’s make-up tray only that morning. She pulled the cobweb away from her eyes, and the mascara came off with it. Squeezing through the door, she turned right into the kitchen. There was the big wooden table piled high with the bags of treasure. Thinking she could buy make-up of her own, or even a new pair of trainers, she was just about to grab the treasure when she started shaking.
As her hair stood on end, she heard it: ‘Ooooooohhhhhh – I am the Ghost of Grasmere Gables, and I say the treasure stays on the table.’This was followed by a blood-curdling scream.
Terrified, the girl shot out of the kitchen, through the big door and down the drive. She had to try not to let the toddler know she was frightened. Her brother and sister knew she was coming – they heard the scream. She ran up, shaking, and blurted out, ‘It was gruesome. It was a big purple bogey! It had teeth like daggers and eyes like fires. Blood dripped from its teeth and snot dripped from its nose. It was awesome!’
The toddler told her sister that Mrs Happy had taught her at playgroup that there was nothing to be frightened of in the dark, and that she would go and get the treasure. She hitched up her pointed, bumblebee-shaped nappy and with her podgy legs toddled off up the drive towards the big wooden door with the iron knocker. She was tiny, and didn’t quite have the strength to push the door open. She went back three steps and shoulder-barged the door, causing it to open a little. She realised that if she pressed in the pointed bit at the back of her nappy she could just about squeeze through the gap into the house. She pressed in the pointed nappy, but because she was a bit scared it was squidgy and not empty – poo! Holding her nose she turned right into the kitchen. There was the big wooden table piled high with the bags of treasure. By standing on tip-toes the toddler could just get her podgy fingers and saucer eyes up over the edge of the table to see the treasure.
She was about to reach for the treasure when the hairs on her neck stood up as she heard it: ‘Ooooooohhhhhh – I am the Ghost of Grasmere Gables, and I say the treasure stays on the table.’
With confidence above her age, the toddler shouted back, ‘I am a toddler from Mrs Happy, and I say the treasure goes in my nappy!’ Grasping the treasure and stuffing it into her nappy, she toddled out of the kitchen, through the door and down the drive, to share it out with her big brother and big sister.
Imagine their joy as, holding the toddler’s hands between them, the three great heroes skipped back down the hill towards the village.
GRASMERE LAKE
This magical story is perfect for sharing with family and friends on the shores of Grasmere lake. I have done so many times, and on more than one occasion have paused during the telling of the tale to notice two resident mute swans swimming towards me to listen. Now that’s magic!
On the fell-side, near the lake in Grasmere, is a little thatched cottage. Many years ago in that cottage there lived a hunchback – an old man with a hump on his back; an old man so ugly that the people in the village would have nothing to do with him. Furthermore, the hunchback was completely mute.
But even though he didn’t have any friends in the village, he did have some friends: his friends were the animals of the forest. So sometimes, when he went collecting sticks, the hunchback was followed by a line of animals – the weasel, the rabbit, the badger, the fox and, flying overhead, the robin and the wren.
The hunchback also had one very special friend, and that was a swan that lived down on the lake. He so loved the swan that, although he could not speak her name out loud, he called her his ‘lady of the lake’. Sometimes the swan waddled after him and he’d half turn and stroke her beautiful curved neck.
Now one winter, the hunchback disappeared. Was he alive or was he dead? The people in the village didn’t care, but the animals cared because they weren’t getting their breadcrumbs and their saucers of milk. So the animals went to find out.
Off went the line of animals – the weasel, the rabbit, the badger, the fox and, flying overhead, the robin and the wren – off up the lane towards the hunchback’s cottage. They made a circle around the cottage as the robin fluttered up to the window to peep in.
The hunchback was lying on the bed, completely still, and the robin whispered back to the other animals, ‘I think he may be dead!’
Just then, the robin tapped his little yellow beak three times on the window and the flicker of a smile spread across the hunchback’s face.
Excited, the robin reported back, ‘No, he’s still alive but he’s desperately sick.’
The animals knew they needed help. They needed the help of the wisest of birds, the wise old owl, or to give it its Lakeland name, the hullet.
The robin flew off to the wood to where the hullet was perched on a branch. Settling next to the owl, the robin reported the details of the hunchback’s sickness.
The hullet advised the robin that if the hunchback got a visit from his special friend, his lady of the lake, it may cure him.
Thanking the hullet, the robin flew off to the lake where the swan was settled in her nest. Landing next to the swan, he told her of the hunchback’s sickness, adding the owl’s advice that a visit from her might be able to save the old man.
Immediately, the swan climbed from the nest and swam to the other bank. Then she started to waddle up the path towards the hunchback’s cottage.
So there was the swan, followed by the line of animals – the weasel, the rabbit, the badger, the fox and, flying overhead, the robin and the wren. The animals formed a circle around the cottage – a magic circle.
As the swan waddled up to the back door and pushed it open with her yellow bill, the wren fluttered up to the window to peep in.
The hunchback was still lying on the bed. His face was as white as the sheet he was lying on and he was completely motionless.
The wren whispered to the others, ‘It may be too late,’ followed by, ‘No, wait a minute. The lady of the lake is waddling over to the bed.’
The swan tapped her yellow bill three times on the hunchback’s forehead and he started to smile.
Excited, the wren reported, ‘We’re in time! He’s still alive!’
Just then, the swan tore some of the feathers from her left wing and jabbed them through the skin of the hunchback’s left arm where they remained. Mystified, the wren reported this to the other animals.
Then, the swan tore some of the feathers from her right wing and jabbed them through the skin of the hunchback’s right arm, where again they stayed. Again, the wren reported what he had seen.
On hearing this, the circle of animals became very agitated and asked, ‘What’s happening now?’
The wren reported that the hunchback had rolled over and the swan had torn some feathers from her back and jabbed them through the skin of the old man’s back.
Inside the cottage, the swan then started to stroke the hunchback’s hump with her yellow bill and, to the wren’s amazement, the old man’s back flattened out. Then, as the swan stroked the hunchback’s neck with her bill, his neck became long and curved.
Everything had gone eerily quiet and the animals wondered what was happening. The wren informed them that they would just have to be patient and wait.
After some magical time, the back door of the cottage opene
d and, to the animals’ amazement, out came not one but two swans. The swans waddled down to the lake, slid into the water and swam off side by side.
They say our friend the hunchback will be with his lady of the lake forever now, because swans, like most waterfowl, only mate once in their lifetime, and when they do they mate for life!
However, strangely, since that day, most of the swans in the Lake District are mute … just like the hunchback in our story.
CARLISLE CASTLE
We all love riddles and try to solve them for fun. The princess in the tale that follows has to solve a riddle to escape from a dungeon. Perhaps you can visit the dungeon at Carlisle Castle.
Some people say stories are magic. If, like the princess in my tale, you cut an apple in half and find a star shape, it is magic! Try it yourself after you’ve enjoyed the story.
One fine day the princess was walking back across the field towards her castle, Carlisle Castle. As she got closer to the castle moat, the ground seemed to tremble and shake. The earth cracked open in front of her and out of the crack in the earth jumped a fearsome ogre.
‘AAAAAAARGH!’ The ogre seized the princess by the hair and dragged her away, across the field, up the hill into his gloomy old house and threw her into the dungeon. She lay on the cold stone floor of her cell, quaking with fear. The ogre stood over her menacingly. He snarled at her that he had some bad news … and some worse news! The bad news was that she was his prisoner and the worse news was that if she couldn’t solve his riddle, she’d be his prisoner for the rest of her days.
Once the princess had calmed down and collected herself, she wasn’t quite so scared. After all, she was a smart lass, she enjoyed riddles, and was rather good at solving them. She was determined to outwit this ogre and get back safely to Carlisle Castle. Defiantly, she asked for the riddle.
The ogre told her that when he returned the following morning, she would have to give him: ‘A golden box without a lid, and deep inside a star is hid.’ Sitting on the cold stone floor, the princess looked around the cell in desperation; it was completely empty. Digging deep into her mind, she realised a box can be any shape or any weight as long as it contains objects. She thought of her round jewellery box and her Grandma’s pill box. Time to explore.