Peeps at Many Lands: Norway Part 4

But the majority of Nors.e.m.e.n are good sportsmen and good fishermen, and in most seasons there are plenty of fjeld-ryper to be shot and good hauls of trout to be made in the mountain lakes and connecting streams.

But what is the country like up here on the very summit of everything? It is called a plateau; but that does not mean that it is absolutely level, for, as a matter of fact, there is no part of it level enough to be made into a football ground. It is all up and down, and every here and there are low hills, with occasionally great prominent, rounded mountain-tops, rising to a height of 500 or 600 feet above the plateau. Then there are chains of lakes, often several miles in length, acres of swampy ground in every direction, shallow ravines filled with a jumble of rocks and boulders, and constant sand mounds, partly overgrown with gra.s.s and dwarf juniper. And up here are the snowfields, about which we shall have more to say presently.

It is all weird and wild and wonderful, and if there be no wind the silence is intense, and only broken by the bark of an Arctic fox from some rocky hillside or by the plaintive call of a golden plover.

Why, it may be asked, should anyone wish to go to such a desolate place? Only to shoot or to fish, to gather in a store of the purest air in the world, or perhaps to enjoy a period of calm and quiet solitude--world-forgetting, by the world forgot.

CHAPTER X

WILD NATURE--BEASTS

In a country like Norway, with its vast forests and waste moorlands, it is only natural to find a considerable variety of animals and birds. Some of these are peculiar to Scandinavia. Some, though only occasionally met with in the British Isles, are not rare in Norway; whilst others (more especially among the birds) are equally common in both countries.

There was a time when the people of England lived in a state of fear and dread of the ravages of wolves and bears, and the Norwegians of the country districts even now have to guard their flocks and herds from these destroyers. Except in the forest tracts of the Far North, however, bears are not numerous, but in some parts, even in the South, they are sufficiently so to be a nuisance, and are ruthlessly hunted down by the farmers. As far as wolves are concerned civilization is, fortunately, driving them farther afield each year, and only in the most out-of-the-way parts are they ever encountered nowadays. Stories of packs of hungry wolves following in the wake of a sleigh are still told to the children in Norway, but they relate to bygone times--half a century or more ago, and such wild excitements no longer enter into the Nors.e.m.e.n's lives.

Yet less ferocious animals give the people trouble enough, and amongst these may be mentioned the lynx and the wolverine, or glutton, each of which will make his supper off a sheep or a goat if he gets the chance. Of the two the lynx is perhaps the worse poacher, and his proverbial sharpness renders him difficult to catch. Not so the glutton, who, if he succeeds in crawling through a hole in the fence of a sheepfold, stuffs himself so full that he cannot get out again. I think that most of us would rather be called lynx-eyed than gluttonous, and certainly a lynx is a much handsomer beast than a glutton.

With the exception of the rabbit, all our English animals are found in Norway--the badger, fox, hare, otter, squirrel, hedgehog, polecat, stoat, and the rest of them. But besides these there are little Arctic foxes and Arctic hares, with bluish-grey coats in the summer and snowy-white ones in the winter. This change of colour is a provision of Nature, rendering these particular animals, and some birds also, almost invisible among the snows. The ermine is another instance of this. In summer he is just an ugly little brown stoat; but in winter he comes out in pure white, with a jet-black tip to his tail, a skin worth a lot of money.

Of all these small Norwegian animals perhaps the most interesting is the lemming, who, for some reason best known to himself, does not trouble to put on a white coat in the winter, but keeps to his stripy jacket all the year round. He lives everywhere--up on the mountains and down in the valleys, and is hardly as large as an ordinary rat; but woe betide the dog that brings him to bay, for if he finds his road to escape barred, he will sit up and fight to the death, and he knows how to bite. Yet he would much rather run away if he could, as in ordinary life he is quite peacefully inclined, and feeds on nothing more than gra.s.s and herbs and roots.

But there is a peculiarity about the lemming which makes the country-folk of Norway more afraid of him than of any other animal. In most years you may wander about the country for weeks and never see a lemming, but occasionally there comes what is called a "lemming-year,"

when more young lemmings are born than usual, and then the trouble begins. They eat up everything round about their homes, and they begin to wander in search of food in packs of thousands, like swarms of locusts. The farmers try to destroy them, but they soon give up the attempt, as for days and days the lemmings come on in great waves, eating up the gra.s.s and the crops wherever they pa.s.s. Except the sea, nothing will stop them when once they have made a start; they come down the mountain-sides, swim the rivers and streams, rush through the forests, and, eating as they go, devastate the farm-lands. They do not wander hither and thither, but keep to the same direction straight ahead, until they eventually reach the sea. Whether they think that it is only another river to be crossed, or whether they think that they have done enough damage for one lifetime, n.o.body knows; but into the sea they all plunge madly, and, of course, are soon drowned.

This, however, does not end the nuisance, for thousands of them die as they sweep over the country, leaving their dead bodies to poison the water, and thus making the people ill with what they term "lemming fever." So the pretty little lemmings are on occasions more to be dreaded than are even bears and wolves, but fortunately "lemming-years" do not come round very often, and the whole country is not visited by the pest at the same time. They made their last big raid in several districts in 1902, and they may come swarming down from the mountains again any summer.

I must now say something about the wild animals which are helpful to the people in that they provide them with food and bring money to their pockets. Foxes and other fur-bearing animals will always fetch good prices. There are also the hares, especially the white ones, which are shot and snared in winter-time in great quant.i.ties, and sold all over Europe. You may see them hanging up in the poulterers'

shops in London. Then there is that huge beast, the elk, almost as big as a small horse, who roams about the forests like his Canadian brother, the moose, and is hunted and shot for his flesh, skin, and ma.s.sive flat horns. Red deer there are also in some parts of Norway; but the animal of greatest interest is undoubtedly the reindeer.

Up on the great mountain plateaux there are still plenty of wild reindeer roaming about in large herds, and numbers of them are shot every autumn by the farmers, who sell the skins, and dry the meat to be eaten in the winter months. It is, however, the so-called tame reindeer which are so invaluable to the people of the North. Without them it would be difficult, if not impossible, for the Laplanders to exist, and without them thousands of Norwegians would be poor indeed.

It is a popular idea that, in the winter, reindeer draw the sleighs all over Norway. As a matter of fact, it is only in the extreme North, among the Lapps, that reindeer are employed for this kind of work; and very few Europeans ever have the opportunity of enjoying a drive in a reindeer "pulk," as the queer sleigh is called. That the experience is most exhilarating and exciting is certain. In the first place, there is only one trace, connecting a kind of shoulder harness with the forepart of the sleigh; again, there is only one rein coming from a collar round the deer's neck, and consequently driving a reindeer as we drive a horse is, of course, out of the question. All that it is possible to do is to head him in the required direction, and hope for the best. A jerk of the rein sets him going; and, as often as not, he starts at a frantic gallop, kicking up the snow into the driver's face until he is almost blinded, and careering right and left at his own sweet will until he is tired. There is no difficulty about keeping to the road, because there are no roads--only miles and miles of snow, and the reindeer knows pretty well which way to go, since the camping-places and habitations in these regions are limited.

Imagine what it would be like to jump into a boat-like "pulk" all alone--for there is only room for one--twist the rein round your wrist, give it a flick, and so away over the waste of snow, watching the great antlers of the deer in front of you, and flinging yourself from side to side to prevent capsizing. And, if you do happen to upset, you must hang on to the rein like grim death and be dragged over the snow, otherwise the reindeer will either fly like the wind and be lost, or he may turn on you and attack you with his fore-hoofs.

These are the animals which are called the tame reindeer, but their tameness only consists in the fact that they are kept in herds together, and watched by men and dogs. They graze wherever they choose, and the men and the dogs have to follow them. When they are wanted for driving, to be milked, or to be killed, the Lapp has to la.s.so them over the horns, from a distance of thirty or forty yards, for no reindeer is ever sufficiently tame to permit a man to walk up to him.

The wealth of a Laplander depends on the number of reindeer which he possesses. They carry his baggage and draw his sleighs when encampments are moved; they provide him with milk and cheese, and, when killed, with excellent meat. Their skins keep him warm at night, and out of them are made boots, shoes, and leggings, as well as every kind of article of leather which the Lapp has a use for. Horns, hoofs, and bones all have their value, and not so long ago the women did all their sewing with needles and threads made out of reindeer's bones and sinews. Moreover, after supplying their own wants, the herdsmen can sell the surplus meat and skins, and thus obtain the wherewithal to buy other necessaries or luxuries.

Cows, horses, sheep, goats, or pigs would be out of place in Lapland, and would find nothing to eat. But the "camel of the Arctic Desert,"

as the reindeer has been called, thrives in the cold without care or shelter, and subsists on the moss, which he obtains by sc.r.a.ping deep holes in the snow. Small wonder that he is a valuable beast to the Laplander, who, however, repays him only with blows and lashes.

Farther south, on the Hardanger Fjeld and elsewhere, herds of tame reindeer have now been established by Norwegian companies as a new industry. Lapps are hired to look after them, and the meat is sold in great quant.i.ties in many parts of Europe, especially in Paris. A good trade is done also in the skins, for glove-making and other purposes. It is by no means difficult to have a look at one of these herds, and any visitor to Norway who finds himself within a day's climb of the mountains whereon a herd is known to be grazing should do his utmost to see the reindeer. He will find them not, like the deer in Richmond Park, waiting to be looked at, but timid and restless, and ready to take flight at the slightest provocation. Only the Lapp herdsmen and their dogs are able to control these wild children of a wild land.

CHAPTER XI

WILD NATURE--BIRDS

What a place Norway must be for birds'-nesting! There, if one went at the right time, and did not mind roughing it, one might find eggs which one could never come across in England, although laid by birds which are called British. But the Norwegians protect a great many of their birds by law in the same way as we do, and if this had only been done a hundred years ago the Great Auk would not have disappeared for ever.

Most of our British birds are found in Norway at some time of the year, and many of our rarer birds are almost common in Norway--golden eagles, snowy owls, ravens, ring-ouzels, and crested t.i.ts, for instance. As with us, there are resident birds and migratory birds. Nearly all the kinds of birds which come from the South in the summer months to nest in the British Isles also go farther North and nest in Norway. You will find swallows, martins, cuckoos, warblers, and others of our summer birds all nesting over there, and you will find some varieties of southern birds which do not come to England, but go straight up from Eastern or Central Europe to breed in the cool of the North. Amongst these may be mentioned the blue-throated warbler, ortolan bunting, Lapland bunting, sh.o.r.e lark, red-throated pipit, tree warbler, and many others.

Then there are birds which are common enough in England in the winter, but which mostly go away to Norwegian breeding-grounds, such as geese, ducks, woodc.o.c.k, and snipe; while bramblings, fieldfares, and redwings are birds of the North, and never nest in Great Britain. Besides these, there are a certain number of birds which have no claim to be termed British, and which are found in Norway all the year round--the nut-cracker, several kinds of woodp.e.c.k.e.r, the ryper (the game-bird of the country), and others. And, on the other hand, some of our common resident birds migrate from Norway in the winter.

The house-sparrow is as much at home in Norway as he is in every other land, but in winter he sticks close to the habitations, and were it not for the fact that the people are bird-lovers, sparrows would have a poor chance of picking up a living at this time of the year. Towards the end of autumn it is a general custom to erect near the house a sheaf of corn on a pole, so that the small birds may have something to eat when the hard weather comes. And the ceremony of putting up the pole is made the occasion for a feast for the children. They are thus not likely to forget the birds, and even in the towns one sees these bundles of corn hanging outside the windows.

It is, perhaps, a little disappointing to find that robins in Norway are not a.s.sociated with Christmas, but the fact remains that they are not brave enough to risk starvation, and though a few of them are said to stay in the country, the bulk of them leave in September. But the wren takes the place of the robin as far as tameness and impertinence are concerned, as in winter he attaches himself to the peasant's cottage and makes himself quite at home, being known either as "Peter-of-the-Afternoon" or as "Tommy-round-the House." Magpies also are great favourites with the country people at this season, as they become quite tame, and hop in and out of the cottages. They are regularly fed, and no one would dream of molesting them.

The Norwegians have several quaint old legends connected with some of their birds. This is the story of the gold-crest, known in Norway as the "bird king":

"Once upon a time the golden eagle determined to be publicly acknowledged as king of the birds, and he called a meeting of every kind of bird in the world. As many of the birds would come from tropical countries, he appointed a day in the warmest month; and the place he chose was a vast tract called Gronfjeld, where every species of bird would feel at home, since it bordered on the sea, yet was well provided with trees, shrubs, flowers, rocks, sand, and heather, as well as with lakes and rivers full of fish. So on the morning of the great congress the birds began to arrive in a steady stream, and by noon every description of bird was represented--even the ostrich (though how he contrived to cross the seas the story does not say). The eagle welcomed them, and when the last hummingbird had settled down he addressed the meeting, saying that there was no doubt that he had a right to demand to be proclaimed their king. The spread of his wings was prodigious, he could fearlessly look at the sun, and to whatever height he soared he could detect the slightest movement of a fly on the earth. But the birds objected to him on account of his predatory habits, and then each in turn stated his own case as a claimant for the kings.h.i.+p--the ostrich could run the fastest, the bird of paradise and the peac.o.c.k could look the prettiest, the parrot could talk the best, the canary could sing the sweetest, and every one of them, for some reason or other, was in his own opinion superior to his fellows. After several days of fruitless discussion it was finally decided that whichever bird could soar the highest should be, once and for all, proclaimed king."

"Every bird who could fly at all tried his best, and the golden eagle, confident of success, waited till last. Eventually he spread his wings, and as he did so an impudent little gold-crest hopped (unbeknown to his great rival) on to his back. Up went the eagle, and soon outdistanced every other bird. Then, when he had almost reached the sun, he shouted out, 'Well, here I am, the highest of all!' 'Not so,' answered the gold-crest, as, leaving the eagle's back, he fluttered upwards, until suddenly he knocked his head against the sun and set fire to his crest. Stunned by the shock, the little upstart fell headlong to the ground, but, soon recovering himself, he immediately flew up on to the royal rock and showed the golden crown which he had a.s.sumed. Unanimously he was proclaimed _fuglekongen_ (king of the birds), and by this name," concludes the legend, "he has ever since been known, his sunburnt crest remaining as a proof of his cunning and daring."

In those parts of Norway where the gold-crest is rarely seen the same story, omitting the part about the sun and the burnt crest, is told of the common wren, who is said to have broken off his tail in his great fall. And to this is applied a moral, viz.: Proud and ambitious people sometimes meet with an unexpected downfall.

Besides the three British woodp.e.c.k.e.rs, there are four other kinds resident in Norway, and of these the great black woodp.e.c.k.e.r is the largest. The woodmen consider it to be a bird which brings bad luck, and avoid it as much as possible. They call it "Gertrude's Bird"

because of the following legend: "Our Saviour once called on an old woman who lived all alone in a little cottage in an extensive forest in Norway. Her name was Gertrude, and she was a hard, avaricious old creature, who had not a kind word for anybody, and although she was not badly off in a worldly point of view, she was too stingy and selfish to a.s.sist any poor wayfarer who by chance pa.s.sed her cottage door. One day our Lord happened to come that way, and, being hungry and thirsty, he asked of Gertrude a morsel of bread to eat and a cup of cold water to drink. But no, the wicked old woman refused, and turned our Saviour from the door with revilings and curses. Our Lord stretched forth His hand towards the aged crone, and, as a punishment, she was immediately transformed into a black woodp.e.c.k.e.r; and ever since that day the wicked old creature has wandered about the world in the shape of a bird, seeking her daily bread from wood to wood and from tree to tree." The red head of the bird is supposed to represent the red nightcap worn by Gertrude.

Legends of this description were doubtless introduced in the early days of Christianity in order to impress the new religion on the people, and several have been preserved. Thus the turtle-dove is revered as a bird which spoke kind words to our Lord on the cross; and, similarly, the swallow is said to have perched upon the cross and to have commiserated with Him; while the legend of the crossbill relates how its beak became twisted in endeavouring to withdraw the nails, and how to this day it bears upon its plumage the red blood-stains from the cross.

Yet one more Christian legend--about the lapwing, or peewit: "The lapwing was at one time a hand-maiden of the Virgin Mary, and stole her mistress's scissors, for which she was transformed into a bird, and condemned to wear a forked tail resembling scissors. Moreover, the lapwing was doomed for ever and ever to fly from tussock to tussock, uttering the plaintive cry of 'Tyvit! tyvit!'--_i.e.,_ 'Thief! thief!'"

In the old Viking times, before Christianity had found its way so far North, the bird which influenced the people most was the raven. He was credited with much knowledge, as well as with the power to bring good or bad luck. One of the t.i.tles of Odin was "Raven-G.o.d," and he had as messengers two faithful ravens, "who could speak all manner of tongues, and flew on his behests to the uttermost parts of the earth." In those days the figure of a raven was usually emblazoned on s.h.i.+eld and standard, and it was thought that as the battle raged victory or defeat could be foreseen by the att.i.tude a.s.sumed by the embroidered bird on the standard. And it is well known that William the Conqueror (who came of Viking stock) flew a banner with raven device at the Battle of Hastings.

But the greatest use of all to which the sable bird was put was to guide the roving pirates on their expeditions. Before a start was made a raven was let loose, and the direction of his flight gave the Viking s.h.i.+ps their course. In this manner, according to the old Norse legends, did Floki discover Iceland; and many other extraordinary things happened under the auspices of the raven.

CHAPTER XII

WATERFALLS, SNOWFIELDS, AND GLACIERS

A really fine waterfall is a most fascinating thing. Long before you reach it you hear the roar of the water, and see the spray ascending like steam from a boiling caldron. Then when you stand before it, you gaze in wonder on the never-ending rush of water, hurtling in one great ma.s.s from top to bottom of the lofty cliff, or leaping in mighty bounds from ledge to ledge.

Nowhere in Europe can one see such a variety of waterfalls as in Norway, for every district has its _fos_, and in some districts the cascades are innumerable. In the Romsdal, for instance, an English traveller once counted within a mile no fewer than seventy-three waterfalls, "none of which were less than 1,000 feet high, while some plunged down 2,000 feet." But the majority of these would only consist of a single thread of water, not of that great, broad sheet which is the feature of the more famous falls.