Olcott, Frances Jenkins. Good Stories for Great
Holidays 

                  Electronic Text Center, University of
Virginia Library
 
oversat

Juletræet eller fuglen.

Det var vinter. Fuglene var fløjet sydpå til de varme
lande, hvor de kunne finde mad. Men der var en lille
fugl, som ikke kunne følges med sine venner, for den
havde brækket sin ene vinge. Den frøs. Det var frost.
Der var sne. Så tænkte fuglen: jeg kan måske
finde varme i skoven. Der kan de hjælpe mig.
    Fuglen bad bøgen: Du smukke bøg, jeg har brækket min
ene vinge og jeg kan ikke følges med mine venner. Må
jeg ikke nok bo i dine grene til foråret.  Men bøgen
trak sine grønne blade til sig og sagde til fuglen: Vi
i den store skov har vores egne fugle at tage os af.
Jeg kan ikke tage mig af alle og enhver.  
     Så tænkte  fuglen: Egen er stærk. Jeg spørger egen. 
Den bad: Du store eg, du er så stærkt. Må jeg ikke nok bo 
i dit grønne løv til foråret.  Til foråret, sagde egen, det
var lang tid. Hvad kunne du ikke finde på at gøre. Det
kunne være du spiste mine agern. Det vil jeg ikke
have.  
     Fuglen tænkte: pilen er venlig.
Og den bad så hjerteligt: du milde pil, jeg har
brækket min vinge og alle de andre fugle er fløjet
sydpå til varmen. Må jeg ikke nok bo på dine grene til
foråret.  Men pilen var ikke spor venlig. Den svarede:
Jeg kender dig ikke. Du er vist en fremmed og jeg
taler ikke med fremmede. Det kan være at der er andre
træer, som taler med fremmed. Men det gør jeg ikke.
Væk med dig.  
     Fuglen vidste ikke, hvad den skulle gøre. Den 
prøvede om den kunne flyve, men den kom ikke
ret langt.  Pludselig hørte den en stemme: Hvor skal
du hen, lille fugl.  Åh, jeg ved det ikke, sagde
fuglen, jeg fryser.  Jamen, så kom herhen, sagde den
gode gran, for det var den, som havde kaldt.
Her er min varmeste gren. Her kan du sætte dig, hvis du
vil.  
Må jeg virkelig, sagde fuglen.
Ja, når dine venner er fløjet, må vi træer hjælpe dig.
Her er det varmeste og tætteste sted, sagde granen og
rakte en gren hen til fuglen.  
Jeg har ikke tætte grene, sagde fyren, som stod ved 
siden af, - men jeg er stor og jeg kan beskytte jer 
begge to mod den kolde  nordenvind. Og den bredte sine
grene ud og skærmede fuglen og granen.  
Jeg vil også hjælpe, sagde den  lille enebærbusk, jeg 
har nogle dejlige røde bær, som du kan leve af  
hele vinteren. De smager godt.  
   Og sådan blev det. Fuglen boede hos granen. Fyren
skærmede dem begge to mod vinden og den lille
enebærbusk gav mad til fuglen.  De andre træer stod
kloge og stolte. Bøgen sagde: Jeg tager mig ikke af
alle og enhver. Egen sagde: jeg giver ikke mine agern
væk. Pilen sagde: Jeg vil ikke have med fremmede at
gøre.  Og de tog deres grønne blad op omkring sig og
stod meget stolte.  Men om morgenen lå bladene på
jorden. For om natten havde nordenvinden blæst gennem
skoven og hvert  blad som nordenvinden rørte ved,
visnede og faldt til jorden.  
Må jeg godt røre ved alle blade, som nordenvinden ivrigt.  
Nej, stop, sagde Gud, du må ikke røre ved de træer, som 
har hjulpet den lille fugl med den brækkede vinge. 
De skal beholde deres blade og nåle.  Det er derfor 
at granen og fyren og enebærbusken står grønne altid 
hele året rundt.





      WHY THE EVERGREEN TREES NEVER LOSE THEIR LEAVES
                       BY FLORENCE HOLBROOK

   WINTER was coming, and the birds had flown far to
the south, where the air was warm and they could find
berries to eat. One little bird had broken its wing and
could not fly with the others. It was alone in the cold
world of frost and snow. The forest looked warm, and it
made its way to the trees as well as it could, to ask
for help.

   First it came to a birch tree. "Beautiful birch
tree," it said, "my wing is broken, and my friends have
flown away. May I live among your branches till they
come back to me?" 



   "No, indeed," answered the birch tree, drawing her
fair green leaves away. "We of the great forest have
our own birds to help. I can do nothing for you." 

   "The birch is not very strong," said the little bird
to itself, "and it might be that she could not hold me
easily. I will ask the oak." So the bird said: "Great
oak tree, you are so strong, will you not let me live
on your boughs till my friends come back in the
springtime?" 

   "In the springtime!" cried the oak. "That is a long
way off. How do I know what you might do in all that
time? Birds are always looking for something to eat,
and you might even eat up some of my acorns."

   "It may be that the willow will be kind to me,"
thought the bird, and it said: "Gentle willow, my wing
is broken, and I could not fly to the south with the
other birds. May I live on your branches till the
springtime?"

   The willow did not look gentle then, for she drew
herself up proudly and said: "Indeed, I do not know
you, and we willows never talk to people whom we do not
know. Very likely there are trees somewhere that will
take in strange birds. Leave me at once." 

   The poor little bird did not know what to do. Its
wing was not yet strong, but it began to fly away as
well as it could. Before it had gone far a



voice was heard. "Little bird," it said, "where are you
going?" 

   "Indeed, I do not know," answered the bird sadly. "I
am very cold." 

   "Come right here, then," said the friendly spruce
tree, for it was her voice that had called.  

   "You shall live on my warmest branch all winter if
you choose." 

   "Will you really let me?" asked the little bird
eagerly.  

   "Indeed, I will," answered the kind-hearted spruce
tree. "If your friends have flown away, it is time for
the trees to help you. Here is the branch where my
leaves are thickest and softest." 

   "My branches are not very thick," said the friendly
pine tree, "but I am big and strong, and I can keep the
North Wind from you and the spruce."

   "I can help, too," said a little juniper tree. "I
can give you berries all winter long, and every bird
knows that juniper berries are good."

   So the spruce gave the lonely little bird a home;
the pine kept the cold North Wind away from it; and the
juniper gave it berries to eat. The other trees looked
on and talked together wisely.  

   "I would not have strange birds on my boughs," said
the birch.  

   "I shall not give my acorns away for any one," said
the oak.  



   "I never have anything to do with strangers," said
the willow, and the three trees drew their leaves
closely about them.

   In the morning all those shining, green leaves lay
on the ground, for a cold North Wind had come in the
night, and every leaf that it touched fell from the
tree.  

   "May I touch every leaf in the forest?" asked the
wind in its frolic.  

   "No," said the Frost King. "The trees that have been
kind to the little bird with the broken wing may keep
their leaves."

   This is why the leaves of the spruce, the pine, and
the juniper are always green.