The Wonderful Adventures of Nils | Page 8

were rye fields that had been sown in the fall, and
had kept themselves green under the winter snows. The yellowish-gray
checks were stubble-fields--the remains of the oat-crop which had
grown there the summer before. The brownish ones were old clover
meadows: and the black ones, deserted grazing lands or ploughed-up
fallow pastures. The brown checks with the yellow edges were,
undoubtedly, beech-tree forests; for in these you'll find the big trees
which grow in the heart of the forest--naked in winter; while the little
beech-trees, which grow along the borders, keep their dry, yellowed
leaves way into the spring. There were also dark checks with gray
centres: these were the large, built-up estates encircled by the small
cottages with their blackening straw roofs, and their stone-divided
land-plots. And then there were checks green in the middle with brown
borders: these were the orchards, where the grass-carpets were already
turning green, although the trees and bushes around them were still in
their nude, brown bark.
The boy could not keep from laughing when he saw how checked
everything looked.
But when the wild geese heard him laugh, they called out--kind o'
reprovingly: "Fertile and good land. Fertile and good land."
The boy had already become serious. "To think that you can laugh; you,
who have met with the most terrible misfortune that can possibly

happen to a human being!" thought he. And for a moment he was pretty
serious; but it wasn't long before he was laughing again.
Now that he had grown somewhat accustomed to the ride and the speed,
so that he could think of something besides holding himself on the
gander's back, he began to notice how full the air was of birds flying
northward. And there was a shouting and a calling from flock to flock.
"So you came over to-day?" shrieked some. "Yes," answered the geese.
"How do you think the spring's getting on?" "Not a leaf on the trees and
ice-cold water in the lakes," came back the answer.
When the geese flew over a place where they saw any tame, half-naked
fowl, they shouted: "What's the name of this place? What's the name of
this place?" Then the roosters cocked their heads and answered: "Its
name's Lillgarde this year--the same as last year."
Most of the cottages were probably named after their owners--which is
the custom in Skåne. But instead of saying this is "Per Matssons," or
"Ola Bossons," the roosters hit upon the kind of names which, to their
way of thinking, were more appropriate. Those who lived on small
farms, and belonged to poor cottagers, cried: "This place is called
Grainscarce." And those who belonged to the poorest hut-dwellers
screamed: "The name of this place is Little-to-eat, Little-to-eat,
Little-to-eat."
The big, well-cared-for farms got high-sounding names from the
roosters--such as Luckymeadows, Eggberga and Moneyville.
But the roosters on the great landed estates were too high and mighty to
condescend to anything like jesting. One of them crowed and called out
with such gusto that it sounded as if he wanted to be heard clear up to
the sun: "This is Herr Dybeck's estate; the same this year as last year;
this year as last year."
A little further on strutted one rooster who crowed: "This is Swanholm,
surely all the world knows that!"
The boy observed that the geese did not fly straight forward; but
zigzagged hither and thither over the whole South country, just as
though they were glad to be in Skåne again and wanted to pay their
respects to every separate place.
They came to one place where there were a number of big,
clumsy-looking buildings with great, tall chimneys, and all around
these were a lot of smaller houses. "This is Jordberga Sugar Refinery,"

cried the roosters. The boy shuddered as he sat there on the goose's
back. He ought to have recognised this place, for it was not very far
from his home.
Here he had worked the year before as a watch boy; but, to be sure,
nothing was exactly like itself when one saw it like that--from up
above.
And think! Just think! Osa the goose girl and little Mats, who were his
comrades last year! Indeed the boy would have been glad to know if
they still were anywhere about here. Fancy what they would have said,
had they suspected that he was flying over their heads!
Soon Jordberga was lost to sight, and they travelled towards Svedala
and Skaber Lake and back again over Görringe Cloister and
Häckeberga. The boy saw more of Skåne in this one day than he had
ever seen before--in all the years that he had lived.
Whenever the wild geese happened across any tame geese, they had the
best fun! They flew forward very slowly and called down: "We're