The Straw Ox
An old man wove a straw ox for his wife and smeared its side with tar, and a bear, a wolf, a fox and a hare stuck to it one after another.
- A calm story
Once there lived an old man and an old woman. The old man boiled tar, the old woman spun flax, and they were so poor that they ate up everything they earned the very same day.
One day the old woman said:
“Husband, make me a little ox out of straw. And smear one side of him with tar.”
“What do you want such an ox for?” wondered the old man. “He can’t even moo. And when the sun beats down, the tar will run right off him.”
“You’ll see,” the old woman smiled.
The old man scratched the back of his head and made it. He wove legs, little horns and a tail out of straw, and smeared one side thickly with black tar. The side shone, sticky, sticky.
In the morning the old woman drove the ox out to the pasture. She sat down under a grassy mound, spinning and singing:
“Graze, little ox, on the green grass, while I sit in the sunshine.”
The sun was warm, the tar grew soft, the flax went round and round. And the old woman dozed off.
Just then, thump-thump, a bear came out of the forest. His side was scratched and his fur was ruffled.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“I am the little straw ox, woven from straw and smeared with tar.”
“Give me some tar to patch my side!”
The ox said nothing. The bear grabbed at the tar, snap, and stuck fast. He tugged with his paw, but he could not budge this way or that.
The old woman woke up, and there was the ox, already trotting home with the bear in tow.
“Husband, husband! The ox has brought a bear!”
The old man popped the bear into the cellar.
The next day a grey wolf came.
“Who are you?”
“I am the little straw ox, woven from straw and smeared with tar.”
“Give me some tar to patch my side!”
Snap, and he stuck fast. And the wolf ended up in the cellar.
On the third day a fox came running. Snap, and she stuck fast. And then came a hare, hippety-hop. Hop, and he stuck too.
The old man sat down by the cellar, knitted his brows and shouted:
“Aha, caught you, you rascals! Just wait!” and he shook his finger at them.
“Grandad, let me go!” roared the bear. “I will bring you honey.”
“You won’t cheat me?”
“No!”
“Well, mind you don’t!” and he let him out.
“Grandad, let me go!” howled the wolf. “I will drive some sheep to you.”
“Well, mind you don’t!”
“Grandad, let me go!” whined the fox. “I will bring you hens and geese.”
“Well, mind you don’t!”
“Grandad, let me go!” squeaked the hare. “I will find ribbons, earrings and beads for your wife.”
“Well, mind you don’t, long-ears!”
It was not even light yet when there came a knock-knock at the door. The old man went out, and in the yard stood a barrel of honey, a flock of sheep bleating, hens clucking and geese cackling. And on the doorstep lay ribbons, earrings and a red bead necklace.
“What an ox!” cried the old woman, clapping her hands.
The old man and the old woman began to live as they never had before. And the ox stood in the yard in the sunshine. The sun shone and shone, the tar melted and ran and ran, and the ox, whoosh, fell apart. Only a heap of straw was left.
The hare peeped over the fence and twitched his ears:
“Is that what we were so afraid of?”
But the honey was already eaten, the sheep were already in the old man’s fold, and the old woman’s beads were already round the old woman’s neck.
