KŪČIŲ DIENOS MEDŽIOKLĖ
“1847 metų įvykio Rudninkų miške
atgarsiai placiai pasklido Eišiškių-Rudninkų rajone per
apylinkės kaimus.............”
English translation by Gloria O’Brien
Talk about what happened in 1847 in the Rudninkų forest echoed far and wide around the Eišiškių-Rudninkų
region and neighboring villages. People discussed the story every chance they
could, often with fanciful embellishments, and citing ever-increasing numbers
of named witnesses as if adding weight to the tale. If it had been any other time, the story
might not have had so much notoriety, but it happened just on the day of Kūčios, Christmas Eve.
It began when Kajetonas
Laukaitis, who owned a small farmstead in Karmaniškiai, agreed with Zigmas Jurgaitis, owner of a large
farm in Čurancų
and an experienced hunter, to spend
the day of Kūčios, Christmas Eve,
hunting in the woods.
“On the day of Kūčios, there’s no place for men in the house”, said
Jurgaitis. “That day, the women are as
irritable as flies, everything is no good, the men are in their way, and if anything
goes wrong with something they’re cooking, it’s our fault! Better we should just go hunting, and let
them have the house to themselves!”
So that’s what they
did. Early on Christmas Eve, even before
dawn, Laukaitis put on his long hunting boots, checked his gun, and filled his
game bag with cartridges, a length of rope, a bottle of brandy, a large piece
of bread and a few juicy onions. He was
sorely tempted to take a piece of dried cheese, but he resisted, since the day
of Kūčios was then observed in strict fast and
abstinence. He assured himself, as he closed his bag, that it was
better to keep the fast and eat humbly during the day, so that the evening Kūčios meal would be even more satisfying.
As dawn rose, he heard the
howls and barking of dogs from Čurancų village,
telling him Jurgaitis was also ready and on his way. Taking his gun and bag, he left the house
quietly, careful not to disturb his sleeping wife. As he stepped outside, he saw Jurgaitis was
already waiting for him, with two leashed hounds prancing around his legs.
They decided to start
their hunt along the edges of Rudninkų
forest, entering from the smaller woods and shrubbery, one on either side. As they entered the first stand of trees, the
hounds, let off their leashes, ran excitedly back and forth through shrubbery, apparently tracking a
hare. The hunters split up, one
approaching from the fields, the other from the denser forest side. But they found nothing in that area, and
passed into another small woods, where the hounds quickly came upon a fresher
track. They started the chase, but it
seems that this must have been an experienced, wily old hare. After a half-hour or so, the dogs lost the
track and returned to the hunters. The
hunt wasn’t going well.
The day was cold and
cloudy. An even layer of snow covered
the ground, with drifts piled against fences and some larger bushes. Occasionally a strong sudden wind would carry
a drift of snow, like flour, from one place to another, quickly obliterating
any tracks in an open field. The
hunters, already far from home, moved, imperceptibly, further into the Rudninkų forest.
About
They sat on a log near a
tall fir tree and took their food from their bags. First,
they gave each dog a big piece of bread,
then readied their own repast.
Laukaitis, surprised, saw that Jurgaitis had taken a large ring of
sausage from his bag. “How is
this----“ he exclaimed, “do you mean to
eat sausage on Kūčios?!”
“Well, why not?”, said
Jurgaitis. “During the hunt, sausage is
just the best thing, even on Christmas Eve.
No one sees what we eat here.
Last week, as I was helping my wife put our foodstuffs in order, she didn’t see me take this ring of sausage
and put it in my pocket instead of on the shelf. I thought it would be just the thing for
today’s hunt, and she never even noticed that it was missing”, Jurgaitis
chortled.
“But that is a sin! The day of Kūčios is a time of strict fast and abstinence!” cried Laukaitis.
“Oh, it’s not such a big
sin”, answered Jurgaitis, while slicing the sausage. “And with a little glass of whisky, it’s a
snack without equal. Here, try it!”
Laukaitis turned away, and
without answering, sliced one of his onions, sprinkled a good measure of salt
on it, and placing it on a slice of bread, began to eat, taking an occasional
sip of brandy from his bottle. He was
irritated by Jurgaitis’s behavior, and it spoiled his mood. He had been accustomed from childhood to
strict and conscientious observance of the laws of fast and abstinence. That had been the rule in their house, and
not one of the family had ever dared to disobey. As his parents had done,
naturally, so did Laukaitis.
Having eaten, the hunters
decided where to continue their hunt, and releasing the hounds, Jurgaitis followed them as they
ran off to the left, while Laukaitis turned right. His thoughts were troubled, and he couldn’t
forget about Jurgaitis’s disregard for the fast. In addition to seriously sinful personal
behavior on Jurgaitis’ part, Laukaitis himself felt wounded for witnessing such
a display of disrespect for the Church’s commandments.
And even worse, the fellow
had said that no one would see! But does
He not see, Whose birth is commemorated this night? Laukaitis firmly believed that He sees all, and
is sure to be angry with those who do not obey the religious laws.
From Jurgaitis’s
direction, he heard the dogs baying and barking, then a shot. It appeared that Jurgaitis had gotten another
hare, as the dogs fell silent. As
Laukaitis stopped to listen, he saw a fox step stealthily out of a bush. The fox, he assumed, had heard the hounds and
was trying to get some further distance away from them. Laukaitis aimed, and shot. The fox leaped, turned and ran into the
denser forest.
Surprised, because he
seldom missed a shot, Laukaitis hurried to the spot where the fox had
been. He saw that he hadn’t missed, as
the snow was marked by a large puddle of blood.
The fox was gravely wounded and
could not have gone much further. He
decided to follow its trail, certain to find it quickly.
It had begun to snow. Afraid that the blowing wind would cover the
fox’s tracks with new snow, he walked more quickly, carefully looking at the
undergrowth on each side. The snow was falling
quite heavily, by the time Laukaitis found the fox, already dead, lying under a
bush. Brushing the snow from it, he tied
its legs together, slung it over his shoulder, and began to walk back. Darkness was falling and the wind
strengthened, raising a true blizzard.
Visibility was very poor, and it was much harder to slog through the
deepening snow. Laukaitis had already
been wading through the woods for at least an hour, and still there was no sign
of an end to the forest. He stopped to
have a good look around, and realized he was in a completely unfamiliar
place. He had no idea where to go, or in
which direction he might find home. It
was clear that he was lost.
The forest murmured as the
wind whistled, carrying the fine snow, covering trees and bushes with a thick
white blanket. Snow in several layers
covered the ground, and plodding through it was very difficult. Laukaitis grew tired and wanted to sit down
and rest, but knew that to do so in such conditions was dangerous. One could freeze to death without
knowing. He kept going in that
direction, where, he hoped, was home.
His tiredness increased with every step, getting harder and harder to
drag his feet up out of the snow, and the snowflakes fell into his eyes,
sticking to his lashes. He realized that
he could go no further, and was apt to drop somewhere near a bush, unable to
rise again.
He found a tall fir tree
with thick branches that drooped to the ground, making a sort of shelter, and
crawled underneath, leaning against the tree’s wide trunk. Here, it was much better, as the branches
offered refuge from the frigid wind.
His chilled muscles
relaxed, and a welcome warmth flooded his being.
“I must not fall asleep”,
he told himself, “because that would be the end. I wouldn’t be able to rise, and would
freeze.”
All sorts of thoughts
passed through his mind. He remembered
that it was Christmas Eve, but he would not partake of the Kūčios meal, he wouldn’t get home in time. Maybe he wouldn’t even be able to get to
church tomorrow.
“What a thing to
happen -- to get lost in the woods -- and
now I can’t do anything but wait for the
light of dawn.”
He remembered that his
father had taken him to
At
“Stand up! - and go, Kajetonai! Soon the curtain will be closed and you will
not see the Christ Child.” His father
sternly admonished him.
He strained with all his
might, and leaning heavily on both hands, he stood. The people were gone; there was no father,
nor church, nor creche, nor candles. He
stood under the fir tree, and through its branches he could see a dark blue sky
with myriad stars. The blizzard had
stopped. Snow no longer fell, but it was
much colder. Laukaitis understood that
he had fallen asleep, and only his childhood memories and the sound of his
father’s voice had woken him, saving him from a certain frozen death. He remembered that he still had some brandy.
With stiff hands he took
the little bottle from his bag, drew the cork, and swallowed two
mouthfuls. Warmth spread throughout his
body. He stamped his feet and clapped
his hands, slapped his sides, and soon felt that the stiffness was passing and
his muscles were relaxing. Taking his
gun, his bag, and the fox, he crawled out from under the tree, and studying the
stars, set off in what he thought was the direction of home. Walking was even harder than before, because
of the new-fallen snow, but he kept on going without stopping. After a short
while, he heard a sound coming from the
west – a bell, such as those farmers tied onto their horses during
wintertime. That meant someone was
riding, and in that direction should be a road.
Laukaitis quickened his steps, and soon, he saw a farmer with his wagon. He realized he had come out on the Rudninkų-Pulstokių
road.
The farmer stopped, immediately wrapped Laukaitis in a blanket, and
drove him to the nearby Podborių
village, which was just five kilometers from Laukaitis’s homestead. The farmers there knew him, and helped to
revive him and fed him, then harnessing their horses, drove him to Karmaniškius, and home.
The people of Čurancų village had been searching for the lost
hunters for more than five hours. When
the blizzard had begun, Jurgaitis’s hounds had returned home alone, and the household knew the
hunters could easily be lost in such weather.
There was nothing anyone could do while the storm was raging, but when
it calmed a bit, about twenty people gathered, and with torches and the hounds,
went out to search the forest. Four
hours later the hounds found Jurgaitis under a mound of snow, stiff and cold,
but alive. But there was no sign of
Laukaitis. Some people carried Jurgaitis
home to be revived, but the rest remained, to continue the search for the
second hunter, though hope was dwindling.
After another hour, they decided to stop and go home, as they were all
exhausted, and the dogs had lost all interest in tracking and were reluctantly
just loping through the snow. As they
returned home, the farmer with Laukaitis immediately followed.
Laukaitis remained healthy, and was able to go to church the next day, but
Jurgaitis had been badly frozen and was taken to the hospital in Vilnius, where
his left leg, up to the knee, was amputated, as well as the big toe on his
right foot.
Rumor spread throughout the neighboring villages, that Laukaitis was saved
by the Christ Child, Who instructed one star to show him the way home. According to the story, the star, dancing
along the treetops, led him out of the forest and by some unexplained
coincidence the farmer with his wagon had appeared on the right road at the
right time, and driven him home.
Source:
“Vilniaus
Krašto Legendos” by
Genrikas
Songinas, printed in
1988,
Draugo Spaustuve
Publisher
Linas Raslavičius
© English translation - Gloria O’Brien 2005
This article was printed in
Bridges, Dec 2005