The Story Of Jäkle

The Story Of Jäkle

It was a wonderful afternoon in fall and I was climbing up the wooded hills of my country. Very often in the past I had enjoyed this beautiful panorama but today it was somehow special. I was sitting down under a big firtree at the border of the forest to relax a little from my walking-tour. I listened to the singing of the birds, the buzz of the insects. Nearby I heard the call of a cuckoo with it's echo. That took all my attention, so that I didn't remark the old little-man who was approaching and just intended to sit down beneath me. Very soon we were talking like old friends. I was interested in his age but he avoided an answer an only said: I am as old as this forest. I invited him to smoke a pipe with me. Out of his pocket he took a tiny pipe and soon the little man was smoking my tobacco with great comfort. After a while I asked him: "Now, my dear ghost of the forest, if you are as old as this forest here, you also must have known the old “Jäkle”. My grandfather, who worked for a long time in the forest used to tell me, on long winter-evenings, the curious stories of “Jäkle”. Strange things were narrated in the houses of our village. The expression on my neighbor's face had changed when I mentioned the name of “Jäkle”. "Yes, yes - your grandfather - he told you about “Jäkle”? He wanted to know what exactly my grandfather narrated but I only answered that I cannot remember, because it was a long time ago. I asked him kindly to tell me about “Jäkle” because there must be something true in these stories. I offered him some new tobacco for his pipe and my little man started to tell: "A boy was born in the village right down here in a poor hut about 300 years ago. The parents were very young, the father worked as a hunter for the Baron who lived in his castle not far away. From the day of his birth on, “Jäkle” (as they called him) was a strange child. He was not playing games like the other children, but was strolling around in the forest and fields, where he was looking for animals and birds. Often he brought hares and birds to his home. He never learnt writing or reading. At the age of 12 he asked his father to bring him to a meadow near the forest. There he took care for the pasturing cattle which belonged to the baron and the monastery. Jäkle liked that very much and intended to stay there as long as he would be alive. His father agreed and gave the boy to the custody of an old shepherd who showed the boy all his secrets and knowledge’s he had learnt from the nature. Very soon, Jäkle was able to imitate all kinds of animal voices. If somebody entered their hut, he called out of a corner like an old raven "Was witt dau?" (Swabian for: what do you want?) or a doe came and licked his hand. Even ring-snakes had their place in the hut. It is said that an old fox preferred to live with Jäkle and the shepherd than to live in the earth. The shepherd's big dog was the)r best friend and protector. Without this smart dog many cattle, which lost it's way, would have never been found. The dog brought all of them back. Jäkle, who knew and understood the dog best, only had to say: "Karro, search" and give a sign with his arm - and the dog ran away to look for the lost cattle. Before wintertime, the cattle would always be brought back into the stables of the owners and the herdsmen went to their families. While Jäkle took the speaking raven with him, his old teacher took the dog. When Jäkle then (on long winter-evenings appeared in the people's rooms, he was doing his jokes with the kids. For example: he was able to keep a boy sitting on his chair only by laying his hand onto the boy's shoulder. Or he could also make that a girl was no longer able to move the spinning-wheel until Jäkle spoke out the releasing word. He was also well known as a "mystery-doctor" for cattle. It is said that he had given an astonishing help at difficult births of calves by stroking a few times along the animals back. They became calm and everything went the normal way. But Jak1e was only allowed to do such things before midnight he had to be at home at 2 o'clock exactly. He never told anybody the reason why. Once a farmer of his home village came to him and told him that he didn't feel safe any more in his house. Mysterious things were going on there. In the middle of the night his cattle became restless and all the animals were standing there trembling and sweating in the stable - and the tails of the horses were braided! Jäkle asked the man to paint 3 crosses with chalk onto the stable-door and keep watch until midnight for 3 nights long. If he should see anything strange, he should kill it with the dung-fork. The man did what Jäkle told him and the magic ended. Later, the night-watchman told the farmer that he had seen for 3 nights long a big shaggy dog sneaking around the farmhouse. A blacksmith came to Jäkle and asked for his advice: each night he felt something inside he could not describe, but which made him retching and drudging until all his power had disappeared. Then he woke up in the morning and felt dead tired. He asked Jak1e to help him. Jäkle left the room for a moment and when he came back, he gave the following advice to the blacksmith: try to catch the thing which makes you feel such pain. Put it on your anvil and beat-it. The next night, the blacksmith caught something like a mouse. He left his bed, put it on the anvil and beat it. It is said, that somewhere in the village had been found a dead person with a smashed head in the bed on the next morning. From that day on, the blacksmith spent again calm nights. During these stories I remembered that my grandfather had told me this a long time ago when I was a boy. I was leaning against the firtree. The little man, whose face reminded me of a dwarf's face, asked me with his husky voice: “And now, you want to hear how Jäkle died and under which circumstances he had been buried?” – “Yes, sure" I answered. And so he started once again: It was winter Jäkle had moved into his old hut in the village. But it was not as it had been all the other years. He lived retired. An old cousin took care of him since his parents were dead. She was the only one who noticed that Jäkle was very, very sick. He predicted his death and told his cousin his last will: I want to buried near my meadow under the big firtree on the hill. But not before 3 times 24 hours had passed after my death. He also told the cousin how to find and recognize the firtree, "because he had made signs into the bark. When Jäkle had died and the funeral took place, they put the casket on a carriage with 2 horses. When the funeral-procession disappeared from the old hut, some people looked back. And what did they see? Jäkle stood on the windows smoking his pipe and watching his own funeral-procession! The way to the forest was steep and leads up the hill. But the horses never had to draw the carriage. The ropes were never tight. The carriage was moved by an invisible hand. Now there was only a little distance to the funeral place under the firtree when, the way became for a short time steep and lead down. And now the horses had to draw the carriage until they were wet of sweat. They reached the grave. The wind swept through the forest and the birds were singing a sad song. When they let the casket down into the grave, there was suddenly a storm in the air as if all natural forces broke loose. It became dark and the trees were bended. After the grave was closed, everything was calm again. But the people who had accompanied Jäkle on his last way were shocked once again on their way back to the village. Although they had just buried Jäkle they saw him walking with his shaggy dog behind the cattle on the way to the stable. He used to do that just on that time of the day. But it was winter and there could not be any cattle on the meadow!? Until today it is said, that you can hear on midnight hours the ringing of the cow-bells and the decoying call of Jäkle. "SO" said the little man "that was the story of Jäkle". It was late and I thanked him for his friendliness by giving him the rest of my tobacco. We said goodbye like old friends. Until today there exists a part of the forest with the name "Jäklegrab'" and not far away there is a part called "Viehhaus" (cattle-stable) and my grandfather used to call the plateau "dickefelder" which means that there must have been meadows and fields in former times.

Epilog of the Editor

The story of Jäkle, as it is written down here from my father, has it's origin in the narrations of his grandfather, my great-grandfather. But even he did not know Jäkle because he was born in 1834, while Michael Jaeckle - that was Jäkle's real name - died in 1627. In the past many things had been told about Jäkle, something had been added and something’s forgotten. But the truth is, when I was a child, my father had told me the "stories of Jäkle" as they are written down here. He always used to end with his own experience he had made with Jäkle: "One day, when he was young, he went with his brother Fritz into the forest near Jäkle's grave and told him about the mysterious things of Jäkle. He said to his brother that even today Jäkle reacts if someone call’s into the forest: "Jockele, sperr!” (That is a very old expression for “slow down while driving in a carriage down a steep way”. And “Jockele’' stands for Jäkle) - At once Fritz shouted these, two words. But nothing happened. So both of them went home and their mother asked Fritz to go down into the cellar and fetch some cider for supper. After a little while Fritz came back with an empty jug. “The cask is empty! There is not one single drop inside!" he explained. "That is impossible" answered his mother. It is only a few days since we opened it! Hans please go down. Your brother is too stupid to fetch some cider for us." My father did what his mother said. After a few minutes he came back with a jug full of cider, put it on the table and only said: "Jockele, sperr!" If there is now anybody here, who doesn't believe in the stories of Jäkle, you should ask some of the old men and women who worked for many years in the forest. Of course they will also know some Jäkle-stories to tell you. But you must not be afraid of Jäkle. He never did something evil to anybody. It is even said that you can hear Jäkle laughing here and there in the forest.

Written By: Hans Kimmich