The hoopoe in the linden tree

The hoopoe in the linden tree

by Ion Creanga

Once upon a time in the morning my mother wakes me up willy-nilly saying to me: 'Go to school, you slacker, before sunrise or else the Armenian hoopoe will kiss you and ruin your entire day!…This is how mother would delude us using as bate a hoopoe that used to make its nest every summer in a very old and hollow linden tree on Uncle Andrei's hill coast - dad's youngest brother. And when you least expected you could hear this annoying sound: 'Hoopoe! Hoopoe! Hoopoe!' resounding in the entire village. Hardly had I woken up when mother sends me with food to some spoonmakers we hired to hoe our land all the way up to Valea-Seaca near Topolita. No sooner had I started my journey than I hear the hoopoe singing:

'Hoopoe! Hoopoe! Hoopoe!

How am I ever to mind my own business then? So I swerve by the lime eager to catch the hoopoe that drove me crazy; not only because of the kissing as mother would put it but also because I was up betimes every day because of the damned bird. And when I get near the linden tree that made one dizzy with its linden smell, I put the food down on the slope of the hill, climb the tree slowly and put my hand in the hollow where the hoopoe was supposed to be and surprise, surprise!… I snatch the bird that was hatching its eggs and say: hush sister, you're mine! You'll kiss the devil now! But when I'm about to pull the hoopoe out, strange thing happens: I get scared of its round feathered crest - never having seen such a bird before - and release it back into the hollow. And while I was sitting down trying to convince myself that there is no such thing as a feathered snake hiding in trees' hollows as rumors had it, I decide to catch the hoopoe out no matter what … but the bird, poor thing, was probably frightened sick hiding inside the dark corners of that linden tree that I couldn't reach it: as if it had vanished into thin air. 'Well, I'll be damned! I say bitterly, taking my hat off and pushing it into the hollow. Then I get down, I look for a fit slab that I take with me as I climb back to the hollow, I take my hat off and place the slab instead to find the hoopoe there on my way back from the spoonmakes. Then I get down again and go my way … but despite my walking as fast as the wind, my chasing the hoopoe made me get there very late so the spoonmakers were clearly famished. And you know what they say: the gypsy sings when hunger strikes him; the boyar walks to and fro his hands at his back while the peasant smokes his pipe and suffers in silence.' So did our spoonmakers: they were singing wildly while waiting for their food to arrive. When, late in the afternoon, here I show up from behind the hill, the food cold and making one step forward and two backwards because of their singing … the dragons attacked me then and almost swallowed me if it hadn't been for a younger boy among them to take my side.

'Easy, boys! Cool down! Leave the kid alone! It's his father you have to take it on, not him!

Then the spoonmakers forgot about me and sat down to eat in silence. And since I got off scot-free, I grab the bag carrying the empty pots and head for the village. I stop by the linden tree, I climb it, I put my ear at the hollow and hear something writhing inside. I then take the slab carefully, shove my hand in and pull the hoopoe out, exhausted by so much fretting; as for the eggs - all scrumble. I then go home, tie the hoopoe from its leg to the bed with a rope to hide it from mother in the crowded attic full of junk for a couple of days. But the following day here comes by Aunt Mariuca, the wife of Uncle Andrei terribly upset and starts arguing with mother over me:

'Can you imagine a more terrible thing, sister, than John's stealing the hoopoe that wakes us up every morning for work?'

She was terribly upset and could barely hold back her tears while speaking. And I have to hand it to my aunt: the hoopoe was the clock of the village. But my poor mother knew nothing of my doings.

'What are you saying, sis? I'll give him a good beating if I find out that he has stolen and tormented the hoopoe. You were right to tell me, now let me handle the rest!'

'There's no question about it, sister Smaranda, says my aunt, everything is possible when it comes to that boy of yours! It's a fact! I was told by somebody who saw him do it; I stick my neck out to it!'

The moment I hear these while hidden in my room, I go quickly into the attic, take the hoopoe from its place and sneak with it under the eaves of the house. Next stop: the cattle's fair since it was Friday, a fair day. The moment I reach the fair, I mingle with the crowd there and strut around the bird in hand; Cause I'm a son of merchant myself, I tell you!. A crazy old man, pulling a cow by the rope, asks me:

'Are you selling that hen, … boy?'

'I am, old man!'

'And how much is it?'

'You set the price!'

'Give it to me, I want to see it!'

And the moment I hand it to him, the old son of a bitch checks the bird for eggs and unties the rope from its leg; then he sets it free, telling me: What do you know! I dropped it! And the hoopoe, whirr! On a booth and after resting there for a while, flies back to Humulesti leaving me behind looking foolish and swallowing my tears … then, snap! I grab the old man's coat and ask him to pay for my lost bird…

'What are you thinking, old man? Messing around with one's merchandise? If you didn't want to buy it, why did you let it go? You won't get rid of me! Got it? I'm not kidding!' And I kept pushing myself into the eyes of the old man making such a scandal that people gathered around us as around a merry-go-round; typical for a fair, isn't it?

'You're pushing this too far, my boy! You know that? Said the old man laughing. What's your point in being so pushy? Well! You wouldn't perhaps consider taking my cow as reparation for an Armenian hoopoe, would you? You seem to have an itch, my boy, and I offer to scratch your back if you insist. Moreover, I can whip your ass in the turn of a hand, if you're interested!

'Leave the kid alone, old man, said a neighbor from Humulesti, he's the son of Stefan a Petrei, a hardworking man in our village, and you'll get in trouble with him for this…'

'Well, well! God bless him, good man. I know Stefan a Petrei well indeed! Says the old man. I have just seen him walking through the fair after buying coats doing his job and he must be here somewhere or in a tavern wetting the bargain. I'm glad to know who you are! Wait a minute and I'll take you to your father and see if he's send you to sell hoopoes to the market.'

So far so good but when I heard about my father my legs sank under me. Then I slowly sneaked through the people and ran to Humulesti looking back to check whether the old man was catching up with me since I didn't feel much like seeing him then, to be honest. You know what they say: 'Leave him be, brother! I would, but you well see he won't leave me now!' that was exactly my case; moreover, I was glad to have got away with it so easily. 'If only I wouldn't get into more trouble with mother and aunt Mariuca' I thought, my heart pounding like inside a rabbit for fear and effort'. Home, I find out that mother and father were gone at the fair; and my scarred brothers tell me I'm in trouble because of that issue with Uncle Andrei; he made a big fuss in the entire village, telling everyone that we have stolen it, which made mother very upset. Aunt Mariuca is the kind of person to wake up the dead. She cannot be reasoned with like aunt Anghilita, the wife of Uncle Chiriac, no sir! And while listening to my brothers talking, all of a sudden I hear coming from the linden tree:

'Hoopoe! Hoopoe! Hoopoe!'

My sister Catrina speaks then in great amazement:

'What do you know, the liar. God, there are people who berry one alive for the sheer fun of it.

'Right you are, sis!… But what I was really thinking was: If you only knew the ordeal I put that bird through, you would think differently.

But Zelei left us talking by ourselves and went to the fair to look for mother in order to tell her the good news concerning the hoopoe… and the following day on Tuesday on the eve of St. Peter's day when mother was baking cheese cakes and roasting some chicken dipped in butter early in the afternoon, aunt Mary drops by and apologizes: 'Good God, it's incredible how rumors can set people against each other! Hear me out, sister. Let's eat the food God gave us in his mercy and drink a glass of wine in honor of our hardworking neighbors and let bygones be bygones! Cause if you were to make a mountain out of a molehill you would become crazy!
'That's for sure, sis dear, said aunt Mariuca shrugging her shoulders, puzzled while the table was being set. See? Never again trust what other people tell you. Then we started eating. I got up from the table saying good-bye on the run and went bathing. All of a sudden I jumped by mistake on a high hiss in the river face down and hurt myself so bad that I thought my belly had split in two afterwhich I dragged myself to the shore, hand on heart. The boys surrounded me and buried me in the sand so well that it took me an hour to come back to my senses; then I started bathing at ease till sunset planning to get home at once with the cattle and tell mother that I was late for bringing them home after the cowboy had lost them at noon. And my trustworthy mother, a good Christian, congratulated me for my being such a good boy and gave me something to eat. While eating like a wolf I pretended to be bashful and kept quiet wondering how it was possible for me to be such a good liar that I almost fooled myself. I guess the least you try the more you succeed and I say: 'What doesn't kill you, makes you stronger.