The cold, wet wind howled through the small Pennsylvania town, promising more snow. Joey peered down the road. There was still no sign of his mother. The snow-covered roads were slick, and the old station wagon barely ran in the cold weather. Joey tugged his knit skull cap down, keeping the wind off the back of his neck.
Peter, his little brother, stood beside him on the icy steps of the local school. Mary and Matt, their neighbors, waited with them for Joey’s mother to take them home. Peter was relating the story that his teacher told her class that day.
“I don’t believe a word of it,” Joey said stubbornly. “Mrs. Maybel just tells you little kids things like that because they have nothing to teach just before Christmas break.”
Peter glared at his brother from between his scarf and knit hat. The bright blue pom-pom on top danced in the cold wind. “I think it’s true.”
“Me too!” Mary spoke up from behind her scarf. She was in Peter’s class and usually sided with him in these arguments.
“Joey's right,” Matt argued. “Who ever heard of animals talking on Christmas morning? It’s all make-believe. It’s just a story Mrs. Maybel made up.”
“Is not!” Peter shouted.
“Is so!” Matt and Joey countered.
“Is not!”
“Is so!”
“NOT!”
“SO!”
“Here she comes,” Mary cried.
The sign that read, “Carrying School Children,” crested the hill before the old, battered station wagon rose into view.
“I get shotgun,” Joey called.
“Not fair,” Peter whined, “You rode shotgun to school. It’s my turn.”
“Too late. I called it.”
“I want to ride shotgun,” Peter shouted as he shoved his brother.
Joey shoved him back, and Peter fell right into a snowbank. Mary helped him rise to his feet. But by then, Joey was in the front seat next to his mother. “Hurry up, Peter! I don’t want to miss my show! Hey, ma, why can't we get tivo like everyone else?”
As their mother rolled her eyes at Joey's
request, pouting Peter climbed into the back seat and pulled the heavy door shut behind him.
“Don’t forget to buckle up, kids. The roads are pretty bad,” their mother called from the front seat. “So, kids, how was school today?” With a shudder, the station wagon pulled out of the driveway and onto the road.
Peter fumbled with the seatbelt for a few minutes. The padded mittens made it difficult. He tugged the scarf down away from his mouth and removed the mitten with his teeth. “Miffus Maybel thaid that animufs talk on Chrifmuth.”
“What was that, Peter dear?”
“Our teacher said that animals talk on Christmas morning,” Mary supplied.
“I told them it isn’t true,” Joey said, “It’s just make-believe.”
“Oh? How do you know?” his mother asked with a grin.
“Huh?”
“Well, you’re not outside early Christmas morning, are you? Maybe the animals do talk. And you just haven’t heard them.”
“It’s true?”
“I don’t know,” his mother said with a shrug, “I’m not outside early Christmas morning either. Maybe they do talk. Or maybe it is just a story.”
***
The four children trudged through the snow-encrusted woodlands. The snow hissed as it fell through the leafless branches. “Hey, Peter?”
“Yeah, Mary?”
“If the animals do talk like you said, what will you ask them?”
Peter shrugged. “I don’t know. What about you?”
“I don’t know either.”
“How are you clowns going to ask them anything?” Matt inquired. “We’re not allowed outside after dark. There’s no way our parents are going to let us out after midnight.”
“We just don’t tell them,” Joey replied. “You know, sneak out.”
“These woods are scary at night,” Mary whimpered.
“Don’t be such a ‘fraidy cat,” Joey scolded. “These woods are right behind our houses. And there’s deer and other animals out here at night. We’ll just sneak out and meet here.”
“You sure we can do it?” Matt asked. “I don’t want to get in a whole lot of trouble.”
“We won’t,” Joey said confidently. “Trust me.”
***
The town's church bells chimed, proclaiming the start of Christmas morning. When the last sound of the bells faded beyond the rolling hills, Joey slid out from under his covers.
Peter was already out of his bunk and pulling
on his boots. Both had worn their jeans, sweaters and wool socks to
bed, ready for their adventure. They fluffed pillows and pulled the
covers over them to make it look as if they were still in bed.
Within a few moments, both were bundled up and
out the back door with flashlights in hand. As they trudged through the
ice-crusted snow to their rendezvous spot, they could make out the
brilliant circles of light from Mary and Matt’s flashlights.
All four children had dressed warmly, leaving only their eyes exposed to the biting wind.
“Where to now?” Matt asked.
“Let’s go deeper into the woods,” Joey suggested as he led the way with his flashlight.
The children had not gone far when they heard voices in the darkness ahead of them. “Hey! Watch those lights. It’s killing our night vision.” A few eyes glittered in the light from Joey’s flashlight.
The other children pointed their flashlights in that direction and saw a herd of deer grazing. The does nervously moved behind the buck. And the buck lowered his head menacingly at the children, dark-tipped antlers coming within inches of their flashlights. “Again, would you please get the light out of our eyes?”
The children obediently lowered their flashlights. The snow on the ground softly reflected the light, enough to make out shapes in the darkness.
“Thank you, children,” said the buck as he continued to graze on the low-hanging tree branches.
The children exchanged wide-eyed looks as their mouths hung agape behind their scarves.
Mary was the first to speak, “You... you CAN talk.”
“Of course we can, child,” one doe replied. “We always could. You just can’t understand us until these first hours of Christmas.”
“How come Santa’s reindeer can talk all year
round, and you can only be heard now?” Peter asked.
“Saint Nicholas’ reindeer are special,” the doe explained.
“It’s a good story,” the buck added.
“Let me tell it. Let me tell it,” another doe pleaded. The buck nodded elegantly and the doe began…
***
Many years ago, somewhere in Europe, there was a herd of reindeer living in the woods just beyond a small village. One day, the herd discovered an abandoned fawn. It was a miracle that he was found so easily, for his coat was as white as the pure snow he burrowed himself into. With the newborn stag’s parents nowhere to be found, the herd decided to adopt him.
It was strange that one so young was found early in the winter -- Christmas morning in fact. But there were does in the herd who were heavy with unborn fawns and able to give the newborn stag the milk he needed. And on cold winter nights, the herd curled around the young one, to shelter him and keep him warm.
Near the end of winter, the wolves came down from the mountains, as they did each bad winter. The bucks and does taught the young stag to keep downwind from the wolves. When the wolves finally scented the herd, though, several strong bucks kept to the rear of the herd, keeping the wolves away from the does and the young.
The seasons turned, and the white stag was raised and well loved by all in the herd. But as he grew in size and strength, he never lost his white coat like the fawns lose their spots. In fact, his coat only seemed to grow more brilliant -- as if the moon had come to rest in his hide.
One day in the fall, just as the young stag
was getting the first of his antlers, something strange happened. There was a grizzly in the area who had gone mad with pain. A careless bow hunter had hit him, and left him suffering. He attacked any animal that came near him, and he suffered all the more when his movements made the shaft further open the wound.
Once the herd knew about the wounded grizzly, they made sure to keep out of his way. But the young white stag went off on his own. He approached the grizzly slowly. The bear’s red-rimmed eyes spotted him and he bellowed a terrible growl. The stag stood still, letting his clear eyes gaze into those of the bear. The bear’s madness began to fade, then pass. The stag then brushed his muzzle against the bear’s wounded side. The shaft fell out and the wound healed.
Just then, the herd found him and one of the does stepped forward carefully. “There you are, young one. Step away from that bear. Didn’t we tell you he had gone mad?”
“But he’s alright now,” he argued. “Can you not see that?”
With amazement, they realized that the bear
was healed. Only a small scar remained where the wound had been. “Come with us now, young one,” a buck said quietly. “We’re off to find winter grazing, and we don’t want you lost out here.”
“Yes, sir,” the white stag replied and took his place in the herd.
“What were you thinking of?” one of the does scolded. “We were worried about you.”
“I didn’t mean to worry you. I was only doing my father’s work.”
The members of the herd exchanged puzzled looks. None knew what the young stag had meant.
Late that winter, the wolves came again. The stag by then had been taught to defend the females and younger members of the herd. When the chase began and the wolves howled their joy in the hunt, he took his place at the rear. But when the wolves drew closer, he stopped and turned to face them.
“He’s going to get himself killed,” an older buck said. He turned to defend the herd beside the white stag, antlers lowered.
But the white stag held his head high. “Brothers,” he called out to the wolves. “This herd is not yours to hunt.”
The alpha-male wolf paused and called back across the snowy woodland, “Brother, we are hungry and meat is scarce. You have many fine members in your herd. It’s our right and nature’s way that we have at least the weakest from your herd.”
“It is your right to hunt, brother. But I have chosen this herd for a special purpose. You shall not hunt here.”
The alpha-male thought the answer over and replied, “As you will. We shall hunt elsewhere.”
When the young stag turned, he saw the
questions in the eyes of his herdmates. “I shall leave you for a time,” he said, “But I shall find you when you’re needed. I thank you for raising me.” With a few bounds, he disappeared into the thickness of the woodland.
It wasn’t until three years later that the white stag returned. His coat still gleamed white, and a full set of antlers crowned his head.
“There’s someone in the nearby village that needs your help,” he said. “A man by the name of Nicholas Claus brings food and toys to the poor children. And each year his burden grows heavier.”
Since it was Christmas Eve, the herd agreed to help Nicholas. But as they shyly approached his cabin at the edge of the village, they remembered that men couldn’t understand their speech. “Stall him until midnight,” the white stag suggested, “and then you can explain your intentions.”
And that is what they did. A few does lured away the mule that Nicholas used to help carry the food and toys. Some spread the toys around the yard, careful not to damage any. Another hid a sack behind the stable.
Soon Nicholas and his wife were outside, trying to chase the reindeer off and collect the scattered items. “Isn’t it strange,” Nicholas’ wife said, “that the reindeer don’t run away.”
“Look there, dear,” Nicholas said as he pointed at the white stag. “That’s the one I said watched me last year.”
For a few more hours, the couple chased the reindeer about the yard. It soon became a game, and they couldn’t help laughing at the reindeer’s antics. But then, the village church bells rang in Christmas. “Enough already!” Nicholas said. “I need to get these gifts to the children.”
“We’re here to help you do that,” one of the reindeer said.
“Well why didn’t you say so earlier instead of scattering these gifts?”
“Christmas morning, sir. We couldn’t be understood by you until then.”
“Oh-HO-ho! That’s right. So what are we waiting for? Let’s get you loaded up. The lot of you will save me several trips back home this night.”
“Here, dear,” his wife said as she dragged some bells from the storage shed. “If we put these on the reindeer, the children will hear you coming and know that you haven’t forgotten them.”
“Splendid idea!” Soon the reindeer were loaded up with sacks of gifts piled high on their backs and bells strung about their necks. The largest buck even volunteered to pull a small sleigh.
Nicholas stopped at many villages that night. And everywhere he went, he brought joy to the children. Many children were asleep by now. And they wouldn’t know that he came until the next morning when they saw the gifts they had left.
The reindeer helped Nicholas through the night. They returned to Nicholas’ home just as the first rays of dawn were lighting the winter sky.
The white stag waited with Nicholas’ wife and
nodded proudly when the herd returned. “You’ve done well tonight. This day I will give you two gifts. First, the speech of this herd and its descendants will be understood year round. This way you can work with Nicholas throughout the year.
“Also, as Nicholas’ work grows to cover the entire world, you shall receive a second gift. Those of this herd and its descendants shall receive the gift of flight to help bear the burden, but only during my hours -- between midnight and dawn on Christmas morning.”
***
“And that,” concluded the doe, “is the story of Saint Nicholas’ reindeer.”
The four children stood in awe, motionless in the soft glow reflected from the snow at their feet. At that moment, a faint silvery sound of jingle bells could be heard above the treetops. The children looked up. Even Matt’s eyes took on the well-known wistful look as he silently mouthed the word, “Santa.”
The buck smiled at the children, “We speak and
they remain silent. Go back to your homes, little ones, you know how Saint
Nicholas feels about children being awake.”
Matt was the first to recover, “Uh, yeah. Thanks, Mr. Deer, uhm, whatever your name is. Let’s go Mary.” He tugged on his
sister’s sleeve until she followed him up the path back to their home.
“Yeah,” added Joey, “like he says.” He gave a curt nod in the direction of the deer. “Thanks.” He turned to start his brother moving but found that Peter was already trudging through the snow back toward their home.
When Joey caught up with Peter, he saw that his brother’s eyes sparkled in the reflected light of his flashlight. “Where do you think you’re going in such a hurry?”
“To tell Mom and Dad what we just heard.”
“Are you NUTS!?!”
Peter stopped and turned to face his older brother. “No.”
“Well, you are if you tell them.” He rapped his mittened fist on his brother’s head for emphasis. “Remember we’re supposed to be asleep in our beds. If you tell them we’ll get into trouble, you moron!”
“It doesn’t matter,” Peter replied as he turned and started trudging up the path toward their back door. “Mom and Dad should hear the story too. Everyone should!”
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