How the sock-nosed moose got its nose-sock
(or: How the Arctic Circle got a kink in it)
by Ekkehard Buß
Oh-Honey-Moose lived with Mama Elch and Papa Elch in a birch grove on a fjord in Norway. There were always plenty of tender birch shoots, juicy blueberries and tasty reindeer lichen, so they never went hungry. They could enjoy life without a care in the world, facing the midnight sun. Oh-Honey-Moose had the strange idea that everything that was beautiful actually belonged to him.
“My cookie,” said Oh-Honey-Moose when Papa Elch wanted to eat just one of the many cookies that Grandma Elch had baked for them for the Midsummer festival. “Oh-honey,” moaned Mama Moose and Papa Moose. ‘My sofa,’ grumbled Oh-honey-moose, when Papa Moose, exhausted from days of picking blueberries, sat down on the clearing that was the living room of Mama Moose, Papa Moose and Oh-honey-moose. ‘Oh-honey,’ sighed Mama Moose and Papa Moose.
“My little kisses,” squealed Oh-Honey-Moose when Mama Moose gave Papa Moose a kiss for comfort. ‘Oh-honey,’ sighed Mama Moose and Papa Moose.
Now you know how Oh-Honey-Moose got his name.
One day, Oh-Honey-Moose had a historical fit. Oh-Honey-Moose was bathing in the fjord with Mama Moose and Papa Moose, as they liked to do. A family of geese swam by: Mama Goose, Papa Goose and five squeaky little goslings.
“My rubber ducks!” Oh-Honey-Moose was pleased to see the cute goslings, and immediately wanted to play and splash and romp with them. The goose mother was very worried about her children and did not think that Oh-Honey-Moose was a suitable toy for them; so she bit Oh-Honey-Moose right in the big grouch, as the moose's nose is called, and swam away with her family as quickly as she could.
“MY, MY, MY!” shouted Oh-Honey-Moose, and he got angrier and angrier and angrier, and ran off into the forest and ran and shouted and didn't want to see anyone. ‘But Oh-Honey,’ said Mama Moose and Papa Moose. But Oh-Honey-Moose couldn't hear them anymore, because he ran and ran and ran.
This episode was so historic that it will be talked about for generations of moose to come.
Oh-Honey-Moose had run so fast in his anger that he hadn't paid attention to where he was actually running. His muzzle was bleeding a little, and since it was summer in Norway, and in the summer in Norway the forest is teeming with bloodthirsty mosquitoes, Oh-Honey-Moose suffered terribly. What made it really bad was that he really didn't know (in fact, he hadn't the foggiest idea) how to find his way back to Mama Moose and Papa Moose in the birch grove by the fjord.
Oh-Honey-Moose decided to just be mad at everything and everyone and just keep running.
At some point, with a badly aching, bleeding, and swollen nose, Oh-Honey-Moose arrived at the Arctic Circle, deep in the forest. There, Oh-Honey-Moose met Mr. Torkel. Mr. Torkel is the most important man in Norway, because he does the most difficult job in the country: Mr. Torkel is the supreme – and only – Royal Norwegian Arctic Circle Administrator. Every spring, when the ice and snow have melted, Mr. Torkel takes his big bucket of white paint and draws a thick white line across the country – from the sea in the west to the Swedish border in the east – so that everyone can see where the Arctic Circle runs.
And every late fall, when the first snow has fallen, Mr. Torkel takes the big canister of black paint and draws a thick black line from the sea in the west to the Swedish border in the east, so that the location of the Arctic Circle is not forgotten over the winter, because you can't see the white line under the snow. “Hello,“ said Oh-Honey-Moose. ‘ah, ähm, hello,’ said Mr. Torkel. ‘It's not ’8-M-Hello,‘” said Oh-Honey-Moose. “It's ’Oh-Honey-Moose.' My muffle hurts. I'm sad. I'd like to go home to Mama!”
Now, it so happens that Mr. Torkel is not only the most important man in Norway, but also the smartest. (“Which doesn't mean much, though,” as Mrs. Torkel likes to point out, “even if he's not a stupid man.”)
Mr. Torkel is a clever and prudent person who always wears a sock on view in order to be prepared for all of life's eventualities. Every morning, when Mr. Torkel leaves his house on the Arctic Circle, he puts a fresh sock in his backpack to be prepared for any extraordinary situation. “Let me protect your muffle first,” said Mr. Torkel, took the sock and pulled it over Oh-Honey-Moose's nose.
“Now the mosquitoes have a bad hand,” said Mr. Torkel. ‘And you know what, Oh-Honey-Moose?’ said Mr. Torkel. ”The lines of the Arctic Circle urgently need to be checked!”
From now on, the Arctic Circle runs through the birch grove by the fjord! I'll take you home.”
And so it came to pass that the Arctic Circle was bent out of shape. Mr. Torkel drew the white line all the way to the birch grove by the fjord. Oh-Honey-Moose wore the big sock on his nose the whole way, so that no goose could bite him and no mosquito could sting him, and when they arrived at the fjord, they saw Mama Moose and Papa Moose from afar, who were very sad because Oh-Honey-Moose had been gone for so long. But when they recognized the little moose with the big sock on his nose, their joy was great!
“Our dear Oh-Honey-Moose is back!” said Mama Elch happily and gave Oh-Honey-Moose a big hug. ‘Do you know how much we love you?’ asked Papa Elch. ‘MY sock!’ said Oh-Honey-Moose, and everyone was happy and glad that they had found each other again.
Reproduced with kind permission of
© 2000 Ekkehard Buß
English translation: Chiara Runge