Memories of the Past

It seems there is hardly anything important in my life that I remember which is not connected with the forest. I can say that the time of herding animals was one of the most exciting periods — there were tears and there was laughter.

There were three of us neighbouring children around the same age. Naimi, the neighbour girl, was about a year younger than me. Robert, who was not Naimi's brother, was the same age as I was, we had even been born in the same month. Their houses stood very close together, almost on the same field. All three of us had to take turns herding animals.

Robert was a great bookworm and always had a book with him while herding. He made us girls look after his animals too. When he had read enough, he would slam the book shut and shout, 'Naimi, let's wrestle!' Sleeves were rolled up and a fierce struggle began. I did not join in, I only laughed until my eyes watered. One leg of Robert's trousers was hanging on by the seam, and afterwards he tore the other leg right off. Oh, those children and that foolishness! We were quite naughty too.

We drove the animals into a forbidden place, a recently established forest plantation, to graze. The grass there was so lush that the animals loved it. By evening they had eaten themselves round, and Robert said that his father would surely praise him for that when he got home.

Things were going well for us there because the animals were eating quietly and their bells had been stuffed so they would not ring. Robert jumped onto a stump and tried to sing a rude teasing rhyme about Jüri. Then — thunder and lightning — what happened next!

Before us stood a figure as if a little forest goblin had jumped out of the moss: a man in a green uniform with an official cap bearing a golden star.

That stern and serious man was Jüri the forest guard, and he began to scold us. Then we really started crying when he threatened to give us a beating and report us to the head forester. We begged for forgiveness and that time everything was settled. We promised it would be the last time. Was it? I do not even believe that myself. Forbidden fruit is always sweet.

Our home forest also had names such as Juudinastik and Põltsamaa-Saar. Why those names? Perhaps they were connected with people who had once worked there. In any case, mighty giant trees grew in Põltsamaa-Saar, and beneath them there were plenty of dark milkcaps and pink woolly milkcaps.

Hazel thickets grew in the lower places. The squirrels left a few nuts for us to taste as well.

It was simply that kind of time — childhood and youth. The forest generously offered everything it had. We found shelter beneath a dense spruce when thunder rolled and rain poured down. Indoors we rejoiced in the sun and in the rainbow that shone again in the sky after the rain had passed.