CHRISTMAS GOATS ON BRINGSJORD

YULE BUCKS (CHRISTMAS GOATS) ON BRINGSJORD

by Finn Bringsjord

Illustration: Finn Bringsjord

It was pretty scary to go Yule bucks in our boyhood. On the fourth day of Christmas was the top or bottom of a shoebox cut to mask with holes for eyes and mouth. Then we had to find the new crayons - when one has seven older siblings, was a guaranteed that every year lay a couple of boxes with squares of crayons under the Christmas tree - and then color the mask so terrifying as possible.

Then we mixed a paste of flour and water and glued flock and colorful yarn leftovers. The masks, which were fastened with elastic around behind your head, could be quite so creepy.

Late afternoon was big brown paper bags found forward and masks sat on under the red Santa hats, and so we trudged away down the Western Garden. We liked best to start up about just after dusk, and it came early during Christmas.

In front of the houses there were some streaks of light from the windows; otherwise it was dark and scary. The snow crunched under your boots, and here and there barked a farm dog.

Luckily we had sister Tordis with and it was a comfort when we hit other Yule bucks-perverts who could suddenly fall out of the darkness and screamed and jingle with sheep bells.

There were some houses we just walked right past. It was such house with German Sheepdog, and house which was inhabited by single men. Exceptions to this rule were obviously uncle Anton. There we admittedly never cookies, but he took out a round "Christmas cake" from a bakery with raisins and Candied fruits, which he cut three slices, and let the butter and a generous layer of orange marmalade.

This "finger food" was too sticky to end up in the brown bags and had to be eaten on the spot. Marmalade tasted divine, for such we never got at home where our mother made sure we kept ourselves to home pickled gooseberries. The problem was that it was quite impossible to eat Christmas cake with marmalade through the narrow mouth of the hole in the mask, so it had to be turned back on one’s neck. How did Uncle a big surprise every year now he saw that the gruesome Christmas goats were twins of sister Lina.

Soon we became quite highly geared and trudged boldly around from house to house; went to the hall door and knocked on until someone came and opened up. So we started with Harmony Duet of Margrethe Munthe's Christmas song, "In the barn sits Santa Claus with his Christmas porridge."

How beautiful this sounding is somewhat uncertain. Generally we do not come so far out in the first verse before the household began to “oie” and sigh and wonder who these two Christmas bucks could be, if we came from afar; perhaps from Møskeland or Skrumoen?

But we were not so good at talking with the Yule goat voice, and handed tacit over the brown bags so we without too much frills got made known what mission we were in. 

Only one place was this gesture misunderstood by house kids who instantly started partake of our bags. Oh dammit! But it was fortunately only a single exception, and the bags were eventually filled with cookies, nuts and assorted other goodies.

One place was the residents seemingly absent, yet so much we knocked and knocked at the doors. It was with two older sisters who some pranksters called "cluck hens" They had undergone a revival after the war years when blending curtains were thrown on the dump, and well known to patrol outside the windows of neighbors in time after dusk, when the light was turned on.

We knew they had plenty of cookies, for already the end of November they went around and bragged that they had finished the seven cultivars and that goro and donut would soon apply.

But the fourth day of Christmas light was extinguished in the living room and hear plugs put in. No matter how much we knocked on doors, and singing cheerfully in unison about Santa's barn porridge, nobody heard us.

Luckily our villainous sister came to help. She had been out a winter day before and knew the infernal sound of cork rubbing on window glass caused people to wake up. Coincidentally, she had some bottle corks lying in her pocket as she distributed between us. Then we climbed up a few cypress trees and brought us to rub and rub on the living room windows. Then there was a racket in the living room and the light came on and we sang for full jugs while goro and donuts were distributed in our brown paper bags.

Back home it was always a discussion about how much goodies sister Tordis deserved, and it always ended with that she got a lot more than what one might expect. 

YULE-BUCK TRADITION

Norwegian Christmas stamps 1991. Photo: Finn Bringsjord

The tradition of going Yule-bucks goes back to medieval times. Youths from smallholdings and impoverished mountain farm, went down to the main farms in the village to get a taste of big farmers Christmas food and Christmas beers. 
One reason why the bar mask was enough that it was associated with some shame to go on such a beggar process, and they tried to make it into something else with performance of dance and merrymaking.

In Christmas time it was okay for big farmers that his own crofters sons and daughters got part in big farm goodies, but kids to other farmers crofters should be able to settle for less. This was probably the other reason that "goat-bucks" dressed up and bar mask. Everyone should be treated equally. Yes, often swapped boys and girls clothes among themselves, and "whimpered" feigned " Youle gout voises" not to be recognized.

In this way they were able to go from one farm to the other, and all of the party were equally well received everywhere. Christmas beer had to be drunk on the spot, but other Christmas foods such as pastries etc. could participants take home and share with their parents and siblings.

Small farms and poor people were not visited by Christmas Goats. Yes, some larger farms could bucks also evading. It was a subtle way to announce that previous experience suggested that the farmer was a close-fisted miser. To be hanged out like that was a shame, because at Christmas should the farmer be generous and proud to pay their "village tax".

During the occupation disappeared tradition that half-grown youngsters donned mask and went Yule buck, and post-war years took the kids up the tradition and it became part of the Christmas fun.

This story was printed in the newspaper "Lister" on Thursday, 29 December 2016