Ples legends and tales of the Owl

 

I have got a desire,
My mind bore a thought:
Give the start to chanting,
Tell the tribe a song,
Ancient tradition of the people.

Once children learned to understand the world not sitting at school desks but gathered in a hushed flock near hot hearth and with eyes wide open listening to a storyteller coming to village. Here they sat, and their parents and grandparents, and the ancient great-grandfathers and great-grandmothers also sit on heating stove. Older people heard the tales and songs of the times, but are still closely watching every word, every sound. Going through these sounds in their memory, the people enjoy the view of everything in the world as neatly arranged, as everyone is allotted its place, including man, and thanks to this arrangement, this order and beauty, human life becomes meaningful and, therefore, happy.

Tall, broad-shouldered, almost looking like strong warrior of legends, but with completely white hair, just like the world in the winter on the shores of an ancient mighty river. Here is the storyteller. It is not clear how old he is. He seems to be absolutely still not old. If he was not white-haired, then, perhaps, he might seem young. But as he is full of solidity, experience and knowledge, it seems, the world itself is not much older than he. Silver beard is gently flowing over his chest, reaching to the waist. Hands of storyteller, rough, catchy, stroked his beard, and then went down on the psaltery string, the music helping legend to penetrate the ears and hearts of listeners.

Always and everywhere, in almost all cultures, the image of the storyteller has one remarkable feature: Look him in the eye – you will see a lot in them, the past, and the future, but not live pupils peering into the surrounding. This is true here on the banks of the Volga River, in the land where once lived the Finnish tribes of Merya and where the Slavs came to tame the harsh nature with work and kindness peaceful disposition and become one family with the ancient inhabitants of these places.

Our storyteller is blind. But this is not an accident or a medical diagnosis. It's a secret. The fact that modern science calls the ancient Greek word myth. This is what opens our eyes to the nature of knowledge, which the ancient storyteller preserves and transmits.

The fact is that this knowledge is alien to modern, scientific one, based on observation and experiment. Scientific knowledge can hardly do without a clear vision of things. This knowledge is also unlike the one that religion gives. For a person of faith it is so important to see the divine light, that all of him, not only the eyes, turns into sight.

But the knowledge of the ancient storyteller goes back to a time when the world was not there, to the primitive times of the night. And that means that the eyes are not able to help. And this blind storyteller, peering inside its own eyelids, sees the world, which is just beginning to be, and sings about it to us, those able to see, but not seeing all.

And do you know what this storyteller looks lie? Where did he disappear in the morning twilight leaving the house that warmed him? Who, like the narrator, does not see the light of day, but in absolute darkness knows everything that's going on around? Here mouse slipped under the stile house. The night bird shivered from the chill in the nest. Fry jumping out of the water to escape the voracious pike, and then disappeared into the surface of the river. Of course. You're right.

It's an owl - a night watchman and a night sorcerer. Hear how she hoots like bragging that the whole world is after sunset belongs only to her. According to ancient legends, the owl was the first of living beings to appear in the world, and now happens to be taking the form of a white-haired blind old man, who comes to the people in the house, to tell about the first times.

Secret knowledge about the great owl still lives in legends and myths that have survived in the ancient descendants of the Finnish people. It is not so easy to find myths about the owl in scientific books and popular retelling. And no wonder. After all, a large owl is the storyteller. This is her mysterious voice we hear in those fairy tale lines:

Frost told me the songs,
Rain whispered me tales
Wind blew me the words of others,
Volga waves moved on shore.
I rolled up song in ball,
I spun stories into a skein,
I put the ball on the sled,
Sled ride brought it to the home.
For a long time they were in the cold,
For a long they were in darkness.
I do not whether to take them from the cold,
Whether to take them from the frost?
Whether to open the chest of words,
Box of tales,
Whether to dissolve the knot,
Whether to unravel ball?

Only a handful of myths about owl remained, but t fine art of ancient Finns makes it clear how important Big Owl was in the ancient sacred knowledge. The jewelry of the Finnish tribes uses the image of owl as one of the most striking and important ones.

At a time when people did not know writing, the Finns have inhabited extensive land from the eastern slopes of the Ural Mountains in the east, to the Scandinavian fjords to the west, from the cold of the White Sea in the north to the sunny Don steppes in the south. Finns lived in our country, on the banks of the Volga. Right here, in this very place, in a city that was named Ples, when the Slavs came here. Although why the past tense? Living. Finnish tribe Merya was not expelled or destroyed, but merged with the Slavs farmers in one nation, giving rise to modern Russia. And Merya ancient traditions have been preserved in the form of fairy tales, sometimes almost jokes, and sometimes, and fantastic legends.

For example, one of those stories about how there was a visible and tangible world. Maybe to some of you it will seem familiar?

How did Ples Hills come to be?

All was initiated when nothing has yet begun. When there was only what has not yet been in the world.

How can you imagine it? Ancient Merya when imagining time before all imagined the water and stones. The world consisted of water and bare rocks. Fierce gusts of cold wind, searing cold foam of the sea, irresistible waves make this original world unfriendly, unfit for life. It is told that the work on the transformation of the primeval chaos into currently inhabited world was made by two great birds - Goose and Owl. And that's how it was.

Here Goose flies,
Zealously waving wings,
Looking for land for nesting,
She is looking for a place of dwelling.
She is flying east to west,
Moves to the south, north,
But unable to find a place,
Even the worst one,
To arrange a nest,
To make herself a dwelling.

Mysterious ancient myths. Not everything in them is clear, not everything is predictable. And this Merya myth has a surprise as well. Big Goose sees proto-human knee sticking out of the water. It was the knee of the old wise man, a giant named Vaino. Here's where the Goose and decided to make a nest.

Here sees the slim Goose
Vaino knee among the waves
In blue expanse of the sea,
She mistook it for the mound,
Grassy hillock,
Flew, circled,
Then dropped to the knee,
She made her home,
To lay the eggs
Six golden eggs
And the seven one made of iron

Here it is familiar to everyone since childhood, the golden egg. Let us not be surprised by the fact that one of the eggs laid by Great Goose turned iron. After all, in ancient times, iron was not prosaic metal. All main tools are made of iron - knives, axes, plows, fish hooks and hunting arrows. Iron was valued on a par with the precious metals, and should have appeared in the world thanks to the matriarch - Great Goose.

And then - just like in a children's tale.

Between the rocky cliffs ran gray mouse, small mouse. It is here, in the stones and rocks she has underground home, her burrow. The mouse ran through the knee of Vaino, tickling him with its tail, as light as a feather. And the giant laughed:

Vaino twitched with laughter,
Powerfully shook his whole body,
He pulled island-knee -
Eggs rolled into water,
Eggs are knocked against the rocks,
Breaking into fragments,
Crumbled into pieces.

The Great Goose cried in despair. She rushes over the water, flapping wings, screams, cackles, and cannot save her progeny. It was then that the Great Goose turned to the Owl, "My sister, Sovushka, Night Bird, help me! Catch the evil mouse, punish, and teach it a lesson. Collect the pieces of my eggs, and bring them to me!»

Owl peered into the world, listened to the crashing waves, spread its wings and fell on the mouse like silent lightning, caught and ate the treacherous creature. And then it started to collect parts of broken eggs among stones and waves. It collected everything and brought it Goose. And Goose tried and created from these fragments the world, which is now inhabited by people and animals, fish and birds. And all of them have found their place and their use:

All the pieces were transformed,
Gained a beautiful look:
What was in the bottom the egg,
Turned Mother Earth,
What was on top,
Turned into the sky,
What was top in the yolk,
Turned into the sun shone in the sky,
What was down in the yolk,
Turned into moon,
Egg that was more colorful,
Became the stars in the sky,
And the egg that was darker,
Became clouds in the sky.

So, thanks to the work of two birds - Great Goose and the Great Owl – the world was created. That’s what ancient Finns tell us about this. And we in Ples know one more episode of the story. And are sure to tell him, though, perhaps as the joke.

"Everyone knows - squinting and grinning, the storyteller says, - that the owl - the bird is tricky. Tricky and greedy. Greedy for everything - for fairy tales, for plays, for game. And now, while the Owl collected pieces of eggs for Goose, she decided to hide a little of precious fragments. No sooner said than done. She decided - and swallowed the pieces of iron and gold shell. Little bits. Maybe Goose will not notice. But is it not possible to cheat the mother. Great Goose that created our world has missed those small pieces. She realized that those were grabbed by Owl. She ran to the Owl, the neck stretched, hissing, wings flapping.”Give, Owl, what you concealed”. Owl then spat hidden pieces. And now, this is every hunter knows when the owl comes to goose nest, the goose stretches neck, starts to sizzle, and chases the owl away: “I will not give you, the night owl, my kids; I will not give you even the little bits”.

And pieces of the precious eggs that Owl wanted to hide, but spat, turned into the hills and mountains. Five fragments fell here on the banks of the Volga. That gave rise to the famous Ples hills that locals proudly call mountains: Sobornaya Mountain, Mount Levitan, Voskresenskaya Mountain, Holodnaya Mountain and Pankratka. And, you know, ancient legend has been confirmed. Ples hills are truly precious. Many archaeologists have found here ancient Merya decorations and iron tools. So, they are really made from the shell of the eggs of the Great Goose, six golden and the seventh made of iron.

Why the North Star always remains in the same place?

Ples is a place where a strong tradition of youthful daring and dashing exploits. It is no accident a cycling marathon known throughout Russia and abroad takes place here. In the summer in the Volga daredevils rush on boats and jet skis. And in the winter the undisputed leader among the entertainment is, of course, skiing.

Many people know that the skis were invented by the inhabitants of Northern Europe for thousands of years BC. Mention skis and in the mythology of ancient Finns. One of the main characters of ancient legends is a carefree guy named Lemmy, famous for the fact that during a hunt on skis he chased the giant Elk of Hiisi. This myth in various forms is known to all Finnish people. And here is how it is told, on the Volga River, in Merya lands.

Carefree man Lemmy,
Very handsome Meryamaa,
Quietly lives on
With his young wife.
Not hurrying to hunt some game,
Not walking into snowy forest.

The daring man has sharp peak for hunting and taut bow with hardened arrows. But he cannot go into the forest, because he falls in the deep snow.

Here careless man Lemmy
Sat and pondered for a while
"Where would I get any skis?
Even used, even crappy? "

He goes to the blacksmith and requests him to make him skis, but that they could catch up with any animal. Persuading the blacksmith is not so easy, because he doubts the ability of the hunter:

"In vain you will go, you stupid Lemmy,
Vain pursuit of the beast,
You will take a rotten log,
And even that - with great difficulty."

But the careless hero is not disturbed,
And says these words:
"Do skis to slide,
And ski poles to proper!
I’ll go to hunt some beasts
In depth of the dense forest.

And the blacksmith started making skis. Of course, if the skis are magic, then they have to be made extremely long. Blacksmith worked on skis all summer, and then spent entire autumn making poles. A ski are lubricated with reindeer fat for easy sliding and while admiring his own work blacksmith again begins to doubt the abilities of Lemmy:

"Is there anybody amount our young people,
In younger people,
Who will be able to ski?
Can propel himself with poles?"

Nimble Lemmy so replied,
Said the man with rosy cheeks:
"There are those among our youth,
In younger people,
Who will be able to ski?
Can propel themselves with poles!"

Behind his back a quiver slung,
Taut bow dropped from shoulders,
He grasped poles nimbly,
He slid on slippery skis,
Said these words:
"There is nowhere else on God's earth,
Either under this firmament,
Either in the forest - no beasts,
Four legged runners,
That can caught up with ski,
With skis of agile Lemmy"

This boast of Merya hero was heard by the forest spirits. They did not like the boasting, and they decided to punish the insolent. And the best way to teach a lesson to the bouncer? Yes, simply put him in front of a goal which the bouncer will not be able to achieve, praising his strength and agility as he does. And forest spirits have created a giant elk: the head - from marsh tussocks, the body - from spruce deadwood, legs - from pine stakes, ears - of lake flowers, eyes - from the field flowers. The elk was named Hiisi in the myth, after the wild country in which the forest spirits rule. This country is where careless Lemmy went hunting.

Lemmy travelled a long way, until he caught a giant moose: had to run both across the lowlands and on the hills, swept the forests beyond the Volga, walked around the forest thickets. Ancient Finnish songs even say that on this difficult path Lemmy

raced Death past the mouth.
Death had already opened up the mouth,
to seize the man with teeth,
to swallow hero live.
But it could not grab the hero,
Was too late, failed.

And now - a reward for hard work: Lemmy catches giant Elk of Hiisi, jumps on his back and binds the beast:

He took a hard maple stick,
Platted birch binding,
Tied giant elk in the corral,
Past the oak fence:
"So stand here, Elk of Hiisi,
Hit your hoofs in a robust stall!"

But luck was short-lived for hero. When the day yielded his turn to the long winter night, careless Lemmy began pacing around the animal, stroking its hair, patting on the skin and dream about how next morning he would kill the animal, take the hides and skins, make soft blankets of skins, bring them home, will take his young wife, will lie with her with her on this marriage bed caressing and stroking beauty.

Oh, no need to be immersed in dreams, because the daredevils during the hunt must not think about the joys of marriage. These thoughts angered beast. So Elk of Hiisi raged, began to kick his feet, tore the bonds, broke the pen to break free and ran away from his abuser. A tired Lemmy had to wear skis and again jump into the chase.

But now everything has changed. Night haze felt the ground. It was hard to run for unlucky hunter. Lemmy does not see anything in the dark, he runs into the trees, he stumbles, loses track, cannot catch up with Elk of Hiisi. Then Lemmy remembered the one who sees the best in the dark, who, while not able to see, catches prey by only the sound, by light breeze, , and turned to the Great Owl for help:

"Friend Owl, night host,
Thou knowest everything, know everything,
You are seeking a hare while not seeing him,
You grab a partridge,
Hearing only the beating of the heart,
You flap your wings without making sound,
Overtaking blind mouse,
Help the hero Lemmy
On his magical skis
To get through the darkness
And to catch the Elk of Hiisi".

Cunning Owl looked at the reckless hero and promised him help, soared high into the sky and began to hoot telling him the way.

But in the darkness of the night it is even more difficult to escape for the giant elk: he sees no windbreak, falls into the snow, hurts his long, thin legs on the sharp edge of the snow crust. There is nothing to do, and he also asked for help from the mistress of the night:

"Friend Owl, night host,
Thou knowest everything, know everything,
You are seeking a hare while not seeing him,
You grab a partridge,
Hearing only the beating of the heart,
Fall like stone to the ground
Overtaking blind mouse,
Help the forest animal,
Elk of Hiisi, son of spirits
To get through the darkness
And escape from the evil Lemmy".

Owl turned her neck and looked at the powerful beast, and promised to help him. Hooting, the owl showed the way for Hiisi the Moose.

So she still leads two magical creatures around in the circle, telling the hunter where to run for his prey, and prompting the beast how to escape from the pursuer. Not so hard to see this. In the darkest winter night go to the bank of the Volga, and look at the sky. Over the river visible in the sky is bright and lonely star. It is always on the same spot, in the center of the star hemisphere. We call it the Polaris. But the ancient people believed that the star is Great Owl. And all around it constellations walk in a circle. Look closely. The one that we are now calling the Great Bear is the giant Elk of Hiisi. Behind him chasing, but unable to reach him is the hunter, who the ancient Greeks called Orion. But we now know that his real name is careless Lemmy.

Why Shohonka flows into the Volga, and not vice versa?

Ples town was founded in the place where the small bubbling creek flows into the broad Volga, which is called by a traditional Merya name Shohonka. Shohonka runs through a deep ravine between the Sobornaya Mountain and Mount Levitan. Now it seems almost the creek, but it conceals great power. One hundred years ago, the power of this small river was enough for it to provide bread for all region up to Ivanovo and Suzdal. Heavy barges on the Volga River brought rye and wheat in Ples. In Ples the water mills along the Shohonka banks milled flour, which went to the fairs and the exchange of large commercial and manufacturing cities in central Russia.

Shohonka is what makes Ples landscape so unique. Perhaps, any guest of Ples have pictures with views of the Shohonka valley from a height of hills framing it. We rarely think about what natural forces created this unique landscape. But the ancient Merya people thought about it, and found the answers to this question in the myths. The myths were retold – from the older to younger, generation to generation. And today they can be heard in Ples, only this time in a simplified shape of fairy tales. Although some images of the grandmother's tales can be found in the poetic world of Finnish mythology.

And that’s how all this stated!

Owl and Beaver somehow learned that far away in the north in the fair country stands a golden Baba. And she is apparently sitting on a large mound, where gold and silver are mixed with the ground. And on the lap of her oak cup stands. And the people in those places apparently pray to Golden Baba and bring her all sorts of gifts and the offerings: one brings honey and furs, and other brings gold and stones – and they put everything in the cup oak. And no matter how many offerings people throw there, the cup still cannot be filled.

And Owl and Beaver started to discuss this matter.

"Hear, Owl - says Beaver - it would be not bad to go and look at the Golden Baba!"

"Yes, Beaver, not bad – responds Owl. - And it would be good to look at the cup only for a moment. "

"Yes, Owl, not bad - agrees Beaver. - But imagine putting a hand in the cup, at least I one finger. Maybe, who knows, we’ll catch something. "

"Well, one finger will pick up not much good, - argues Owl. - But if you take the whole cup, flip, and give it a good shake, then certainly, probably, we’ll get something".

So conferred Owl and the Beaver and after discussion they decided to go to the north to a distant country to the Golden Baba and try their luck in daring adventure. One problem: nothing to them to travel there. No horse for then, nor harness, no carts or droshky, and both have short legs. Just Owl has a boat made of birch bark, and Beaver has - tail-paddle.

"Well, Owl - Beaver says – how about we go to the Golden Baba on the blue sea."

"No, Beaver - Owl sighs - and the way by sea is too long. But if you and I dig the river, with water running in it and carrying my boat and you would direct the boat with tail. So along the river you can swim where you wish. "

"Oh, well done, Owl! - Beaver rejoices. - No wonder you're sitting on a branch and turns your head. You know a lot! Thou knowest much!"

And Owl and Beaver decided to dig a river that flowed directly to the north in a wonderful country to the Golden Baba.

"I am a creature of the day, - says Beaver - so I dig the river during the day. Are you a night watchman - you work night work. So we'll manage business twice as fast. "

"Well invented, Beaver" - Owl head nods, and she thinks to herself: "The Beaver has big hut with strong walls and secret entrance. In this hut you can hide a lot of stuff. As we go to wonderful country, get to the Golden Baba, grab the oak cup and shake the cup, Beaver will grab all the stuff and hide it in this hut. And then I, the Owl, will get no furs and gems. No really - I think - I'd rather cheat Beaver and will do everything on my own. "

"Well, Beaver - Owl says. - But you climb on the ground and water, not seeing beyond your nose. I'm sitting high on a branch, turning head. Much I know! All I know! I will you point to the north, where to dig the river. "

Beaver agreed, and they set to work. Happy Beaver works at daytime, Owl works at night. Only Owl deceived the Beaver, showed him not to the north, and to the right, to the east. While she digs the way to a beautiful country of the Golden Baba paves the way.

Day passes, night flying. More day passes, another night.

"What, Owl, don’t you see the wonderful country?" - Asks Beaver.

"No, Beaver, far more" - responds owl, while doing her.

Just the thing. Beaver has four legs, and even his tail-paddle to help. And in the summer sun walks in the sky for long. So Beaver works faster. Broad, beautiful river turns. And the boat can float on it, and the ship can sail it. The only pity is that the river flows not to the north, to the wonderful country of the Golden Baba, but to the right, to the other side.

And Owl makes the way in the right directions. But she’s got only two legs, and they are clawed. The river digging is uncomfortable. And the night is short in summer. You have just started to work, and already your shift ends.

"So, Owl, do you see the wonderful country of Golden Baba already? - Beaver asks again.

"No, Beaver, let’s work some more – responds Owl and keeps doing her work.

"No, Beaver, let’s work some more – responds Owl and keeps doing her work.
Long or short, but summer is over, and Owl met with Beaver. As hard as Owl worked, Beaver overdid it: he expanded his river so much, spreading the river shore that he flooded half the Owl’s river. There are two rivers - the little Owl river falls in the large Beaver river, a little lost in a large, and both carry on, but in the wrong direction, to the right of the Golden Baba.

Beaver got that Owl deceived him and says:
"Oh, Owl, I cannot see any wonderful country, nor the Golden Baba or oak cup!".

Owl realized that she has outwitted herself, and answers:
"Hey, Beaver, it’s a long way."

Since then, they do not talk. Beaver swam away, in the forest streams, and built himself a new hut. But this hut has no furs, or gems, but the willow branches.

And the owl flies at night over Shohonka, looking at the broad Volga, groaning over her mistake. And if anyone had seen the owl, they know that she has leathery paws: this is because of a job that did no good for Owl, yet is still remembered by the residents of Ples.