The Drunken Rooks [Folk Tales Of Flanders]
It
was the middle of winter and the ground was covered with snow. Along the high
road came Mynheer Van Ash, the well-known merchant of Alost, driving to the
town with two immense casks of the liquor known as Hollands, in which he
traded. All unknown to the merchant, one of the casks had a hole in it, and as
he drove along the liquor leaked out, and sank into the snow.
In a field close by
the roadside were a flock of fifty rooks, who were eagerly turning up the snow
and pecking at the ground beneath in search of food. Attracted by the strong
and heady smell of the spilt liquor, they flew across to investigate, and
having tasted some of the gin-sodden snow, liked it so well that they
followed in the train of the cart, eating more and more of it, until at last they
were so drunk that they could hardly stand on their feet. Away they went to the
fields again, and very soon afterwards the whole flock of them was fast asleep.
Presently, Little
Pol, a peasant who worked in the neighbourhood, happened to cross the field on
his way homeward, and saw the crows lying stiff and silent on the snow.
“Ah!” said he to
himself. “Here is a funny sight! Fifty crows frozen to death with the cold.
I’ll take them home with me and pluck them. Rook-pie is excellent eating, and
such a find is welcome these hard times!” So, taking a cord from his pocket, he
set to work to gather up all the rooks, and tie them together by the legs. This
done, he proceeded on his way, dragging the rooks behind him.
The roughness of the
motion and the friction of the snow very soon aroused the rooks from their
slumber. They all woke up, and finding their legs tied, began to flap their
wings together with admirable precision. Unfortunately for Little Pol, he had
taken the precaution of fastening the cord to the belt round his middle, so
when the fifty rooks began to fly he could not get free, and found himself
being lifted into the air.
Up went the fifty
rooks cawing and crying, and up too went Little Pol, calling in vain for help.
They reached the clouds; they penetrated the clouds; they disappeared from
sight.
And since that day not a sign has ever been seen either of the fifty rooks or of Little Pol.
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