Heidi

3 A Day with the Goats

Heidi was awakened next morning by a shrill whistle and as she opened her eyes a beam of sunlight came through the hole in the wall, making the hay shine like gold. At first she could not think where she was, then she heard her grandfather’s deep voice outside and remembered joyfully that she had come to live in the mountains. She had been glad to leave old Ursula, who was very deaf and felt the cold so much that she sat all day by the kitchen fire or the living‐room stove. Heidi had had to stay indoors where the old woman could see her, though she often longed to run outside and play. Now she jumped out of bed, full of excitement at all the new experiences awaiting her. She dressed herself as quickly as possible, then climbed down the ladder and hurried outside. Peter was waiting there with his herd and her grandfather was just bringing Daisy and Dusky from their stall. She went to say good morning to them all.

‘Do you want to go up to the pasture with Peter?’ asked the old man. This idea clearly delighted her. ‘You must have a wash first, or the sun will laugh to see you look so black.’

He pointed to a tub full of water, standing in the sun beside the door, and Heidi went over to it at once and began to splash about. Uncle Alp went indoors, calling to Peter, ‘Come here, General of the goats, and bring your knapsack with you.’ Peter held out the little bag which contained his meagre lunch, and watched with big eyes as the old man put in a piece of bread and a piece of cheese, both twice as big as his own.

‘Take this mug too, and fill it for her twice at dinner time. She doesn’t know how to drink straight from the goat as you do. She’ll stay with you all day, and mind you look after her and see she doesn’t fall down the ravine.’

Heidi came running in. ‘The sun can’t laugh at me now,’ she said. Her grandfather smilingly agreed. In her desire to please the sun, she had rubbed her face with the hard towel until she looked like a boiled lobster.

‘When you come home tonight, you’ll have to go right inside the tub like a fish, for you’ll get black feet running about with the goats. Now off you go.’

It was very beautiful on the mountain that morning. The night wind had blown all the clouds away and the sky was deep blue. The sun shone brilliantly on the green pasture land and on the flowers which were blooming everywhere. There were primroses, blue gentian, and dainty yellow rock‐roses. Heidi rushed to and fro, wild with excitement at sight of them. She quite forgot Peter and the goats, and kept stopping to gather flowers and put them in her apron. She wanted to take them home to stick among the hay in her bedroom, to make it look like a meadow.

Peter needed eyes all round his head. It was more than one pair could do to keep watch on Heidi as well as the goats, for they too were running about in all directions. He had to whistle and shout and swing his stick in the air to bring the wandering animals together.

‘Where have you got to now, Heidi?’ he called once rather crossly.

‘Here,’ came her voice from behind a little hillock some distance back. It was covered with primulas which had a most delicious scent. Heidi had never smelt anything so lovely before and had sat down among them to enjoy it to the full.

‘Come on,’ called Peter. ‘Uncle said I wasn’t to let you fall over the ravine.’

‘Where’s that?’ she called, without moving.

‘Right up above. We’ve still a long way to go, so do come on. Hear the old hawk croaking away up there?’

Heidi jumped up at this last remark and ran to him with her apron full of flowers.

‘You’ve got enough now,’ he said, as they started to climb again. ‘Don’t pick any more, otherwise you’ll always be lagging behind, and besides, if you keep on, there won’t be any left for tomorrow.’

Heidi saw the sense of this, and anyway her apron was almost full. She kept close to Peter after that, and the goats went on in a more orderly fashion too, for now they could smell the fragrant herbs they loved which grew on their grazing ground, and were anxious to reach them.

Peter usually took up his quarters for the day at the very foot of a rocky mountain peak. On the steep slopes above, there were only a few bushes and stunted fir trees, and the summit itself was just bare rock. On one side was the sheer drop over the ravine which Uncle Alp had spoken of. When they reached this place Peter took off his knapsack and laid it, for safety, in a little hollow, for there were sometimes strong gusts of wind and he had no wish to see his precious food go bowling down the mountain. Then he lay down in the sun to rest after the strenuous climb. Heidi put her apronful of flowers in the same little hollow. Then she sat down beside Peter and looked around her. The valley below was bathed in sunlight. In front of them a snowclad mountain stood out against the blue sky and to the left of this was a huge mass of rock, with jagged twin peaks. Everything was very still. Only a gentle breeze set the blue and yellow flowers nodding on their slender stems.

Peter fell asleep and the goats climbed about among the bushes. Heidi sat quite still, enjoying it all. She gazed so intently at the mountain peaks that soon they seemed to her to have faces and to be looking at her like old friends. Suddenly she heard a loud noise. Looking up, she saw an enormous bird, circling overhead with outstretched wings and croaking harshly as it flew. ‘Peter, Peter, wake up!’ she cried. ‘Here’s the hawk.’ Peter sat up and together they watched as the great bird soared higher and higher into the sky and finally disappeared over the grey peaks.

‘Where’s it gone to?’ asked Heidi, who had never seen a bird as big as that before and had watched its flight with great interest.

‘Home to its nest,’ replied Peter.

‘Does it live right up there? How wonderful! Why does it make such a noise?’

‘Because it has to,’ explained Peter briefly.

‘Let’s climb up and see where it lives,’ she proposed.

‘Oh, no, we won’t! Even the goats can’t climb as high as that, and don’t forget Uncle told me to look after you,’ he said with marked disapproval. To Heidi’s surprise he then began whistling and shouting, but the goats recognized the familiar sounds and came towards him from all directions, though some lingered to nibble a tasty blade of grass, while others butted one another playfully. Heidi jumped up and ran among them, delighted to see them so obviously enjoying themselves. She spoke to each one, and every one was different and easily distinguishable from the others.

Meanwhile Peter opened his bag and spread its contents out in a square on the ground, two large portions for Heidi and two smaller ones for himself. Then he filled the mug with milk from Daisy and placed it in the middle of the square. He called to Heidi, but she was slower to come than the goats had been. She was so busy with her new playmates that she had ears and eyes for nothing else. He went on calling till his voice re‐echoed from the rocks and at last she appeared. When she saw the meal laid out so invitingly, she skipped up and down with pleasure.

‘Stop jigging about,’ said Peter, ‘it’s dinner time. Sit down and begin.’

‘Is the milk for me?’

‘Yes, and those huge pieces of bread and cheese. I’ll get you another mugful from Daisy when you’ve drunk that one. Then I’ll have a drink myself.’

‘Where will you get yours from?’ she inquired.

‘From my own goat, Spot. Now start eating.’

She drank the milk, but ate only a small piece of bread and passed the rest over to Peter, with the cheese. ‘You can have that,’ she said. ‘I’ve had enough.’ He looked at her with amazement for he had never in his life had any food to give away. At first he hesitated, thinking she must be joking, but she went on holding it out to him and finally put it on his knee. This convinced him that she really meant what she said, so he took it, nodded his thanks and settled down to enjoy the feast. Heidi meanwhile sat watching the goats.

‘What are they all called, Peter?’ she asked presently.

Peter did not know a great deal, but this was a question he could answer without difficulty. He told her all the names, pointing to each animal in turn. She listened attentively and soon knew one from the other. Each had little tricks by which it could easily be recognized by anyone looking at them closely, as she was doing. Big Turk had strong horns, and was always trying to butt the others, so they kept out of his way as much as possible. The only one to answer him back was a frisky little kid called Finch, with sharp little horns, and Turk was generally too astonished at such impudence to make a fight of it. Heidi was particularly attracted to a little white goat called Snowflake, which was bleating most pitifully. She had tried earlier to comfort it. Now she ran up to it again, put her arm round its neck, and asked fondly, ‘What’s the matter, Snowflake? What are you crying for?’ At that, the goat nestled against her and stopped bleating.

Peter had not yet finished his meal, but he called out between mouthfuls, ‘She’s crying because her mother doesn’t come up here any more. She’s been sold to someone in Mayenfeld.’

‘Where’s her grandmother then?’

‘Hasn’t got one.’

‘Or her grandfather?’

‘Hasn’t one.’

‘Poor Snowflake,’ said Heidi, hugging the little animal again. ‘Don’t cry any more. I shall be up here every day now, and you can always come to me if you feel lonely.’ Snowflake rubbed her head on the little girl’s shoulder, and seemed to be comforted.

Peter had now finished eating, and came up to Heidi who was making fresh discoveries all the time. She noticed that Daisy and Dusky seemed more independent than the other goats and carried themselves with a sort of dignity. They led the way as the herd went up to the bushes again. Some of them stopped here and there to sample a tasty herb, others went straight up, leaping over any small obstacles in their path. Turk was up to his tricks as usual, but Daisy and Dusky ignored him completely and were soon nibbling daintily at the leaves of the two thickest bushes. Heidi watched them for some time. Then she turned to Peter, who was lying full length on the grass.

‘Daisy and Dusky are the prettiest of all the goats,’ she said.

‘I know. That’s Uncle — he keeps them very clean and gives them salt and he has a fine stall for them,’ he replied. Then he suddenly jumped up and ran after his herd, with Heidi close behind, anxious not to miss anything. He had noticed that inquisitive little Finch was right at the edge of the ravine, where the ground fell away so steeply that if it went any farther, it might go over and would certainly break its legs. Peter stretched out his hands to catch hold of the little kid, but he slipped and fell, though he managed to grasp one of its legs and Finch, highly indignant at such treatment, struggled wildly to get away. ‘Heidi, come here,’ called Peter, ‘come and help.’

He couldn’t get up unless he let go of Finch’s leg which he was nearly pulling out of its socket already. Heidi saw at once what to do, and pulled up a handful of grass which she held under Finch’s nose.

‘Come on, don’t be silly,’ she said. ‘You don’t want to fall down there and hurt yourself.’

At that the little goat turned round and ate the grass from her hand, and Peter was able to get up. He took hold of the cord, on which a little bell was hung round Finch’s neck. Heidi took hold of it too, on the other side, and together they brought the runaway safely back to the herd. Then Peter took up his stick to give it a good beating, and seeing what was coming, Finch tried to get out of the way.

‘Don’t beat him,’ pleaded Heidi. ‘See how frightened he is.’

‘He deserves it,’ Peter replied, raising his arm, but she caught hold of him and exclaimed, ‘No, you’re not to! It will hurt him. Leave him alone!’ She looked at him so fiercely that he was astonished and dropped the stick.

‘I won’t beat him if you’ll give me some of your cheese again tomorrow,’ he said, feeling he ought to have some compensation after the fright the little goat had given him.

‘You can have it all, tomorrow and every day,’ promised Heidi, ‘I shan’t want it. And I’ll give you some of my bread as well, but then you must never beat Finch or Snowflake or any of them.’

‘It’s all the same to me,’ said Peter, which was his way of saying that he promised. He let Finch go and it bounded back to the herd.

It was getting late and the setting sun spread a wonderful golden glow over the grass and the flowers, and the high peaks shone and sparkled. Heidi sat for a while, quietly enjoying the beautiful scene, then all at once she jumped up, crying, ‘Peter, Peter! A fire, a fire! The mountains are on fire, and the snow and the sky too. Look, the trees and the rocks are all burning, even up there by the hawk’s nest. Everything’s on fire!’

‘It’s always like this in the evening,’ Peter said calmly, whittling away at his stick. ‘It’s not a fire.’

‘What is it then?’ she cried, rushing about to look at the wonderful sight from all sides. ‘What is it, Peter?’

‘It just happens,’ he said.

‘Oh, just see, the mountains have got all rosy red! Look at the one with the snow on it, and that one with the big rocks at the top. What are their names, Peter?’

‘Mountains don’t have names,’ he answered.

‘How pretty the rosy snow looks, and the red rocks. Oh dear,’ she added, after a pause, ‘now the colour’s going and everything’s turning grey. Oh, it’s all over.’ She sat down, looking as upset as if it was indeed the end of everything.

‘It’ll be the same again tomorrow,’ explained Peter. ‘Now it’s time to go home.’ He whistled and called the goats together and they started the downward journey.

‘Is it always like this up here?’ asked Heidi hopefully.

‘Usually.’

‘Will it really be the same tomorrow?’

‘Yes, it will,’ he assured her.

With this she was content and as she had so much to think about, she didn’t say another word till they reached the hut and saw her grandfather sitting under the fir trees, on the seat he had fixed there so that he could watch for the return of his animals. The little girl ran towards him, followed by Daisy and Dusky, and Peter called ‘Good night, Heidi. Come again tomorrow.’ She ran back to say goodbye and promised to go with him next day. Then she put her arms around Snowflake’s neck and said, ‘Sleep well, Snowflake. Remember I’ll be coming with you again tomorrow and you’re not to cry any more.’ Snowflake gave her a trusting look and scampered off after the other goats.

‘Oh, Grandfather,’ Heidi cried, as she ran back to him, ‘it was lovely up there, with all the flowers and then the fire and the rosy rocks. And see what I’ve brought you.’ She shook out the contents of her little apron in front of him, but the poor flowers had all faded and looked like so much hay. She was terribly upset.

‘What’s happened to them? They weren’t like that when I picked them.’

‘They wanted to stay in the sun and didn’t like being shut up in your apron,’ he explained.

‘Then I’ll never pick any more. Grandfather, why does the hawk croak so loudly?’

‘You go and jump in the washtub, while I milk the goats,’ he replied. ‘Then we’ll have supper together indoors and I’ll tell you about the hawk.’

As soon as Heidi was settled on her new high chair with her grandfather beside her and a mug of milk in front of her, she repeated her question.

‘He’s jeering at all the people who live in the villages down below and make trouble for one another. You can imagine he’s saying, “If only you would all mind your own business and climb up to the mountain tops as I do, you’d be a lot better off.”’ The old man spoke these words so fiercely that it really reminded Heidi of the croaking of the great bird.

‘Why haven’t mountains got names?’ she asked next. ‘But they have,’ he told her, ‘and if you can describe one to me so that I can recognize it, I’ll tell you its name.’

So she told him about the mountain with the twin peaks and described it very well. Her grandfather looked pleased. ‘That’s called Falkniss,’ he said. Then she described the one covered with snow and he told her its name was Scesaplana.

‘You enjoyed yourself, then?’ he asked.

‘Oh yes,’ she cried, and told him all the wonderful things that had happened during the day. ‘The fire in the evening was the best of all. Peter said it wasn’t a fire, but he couldn’t tell me what it really was. You can though, Grandfather, can’t you?’

‘It’s the sun’s way of saying goodnight to the mountains,’ he explained. ‘He spreads that beautiful light over them so that they won’t forget him till he comes back in the morning.’

Heidi liked this explanation very much, and longed for another day to begin so that she could go up and watch the sun’s goodnight again. But first she had to go to bed, and all night long she slept peacefully on her mattress of hay, dreaming of mountains and flowers and of Snowflake bounding happily about in the midst of it all.