The Hunter's Tale

I swear by the baptism of my father and the birth of my mother that everything happened exactly as I say. Once, there were five or six of us, and we went hunting with a saber and a gun. With us was Hadi, with us was Gudi, there was also Chati, and Mati was with us too, and finally, there was my father, and of course, there was me—we all went hunting.

We walked straight through mountains and valleys. We walked in silence, not uttering a single word, no matter how hard or easy the path was—we endured it all. We kept walking and walking until we reached a place where there were three lakes: two of them were dried up, and the third had no water at all.

We looked at them and suddenly noticed that in the lake with no water at all, three ducks were swimming. Moreover, two of them were dead, and the third wasn’t even alive.

"Hadi, go on, shoot!"

"I don’t have a gun."

"Gudi, go on, shoot!"

"I don’t have a gun either."

"Chati!… Mati!…"

"We don’t have guns either."

"Well, what are we supposed to do now?"

But my father happened to have a long-short and thin-thick staff. He lifted it onto his shoulder, aimed at the target, and fired.

Bang!!!

He fired, and I fell. And as I fell, the duck sprawled on the ground: each wing was about four meters long.

"Hadi, give me a knife!"

"I don’t have a knife."

"Gudi, a knife!"

"I don’t have one either."

"Chati!… Mati!…"

"We don’t have knives either."

"Well, what are we supposed to do now?"

But my father had a knife, only it didn’t have a blade. Well, we took that knife, and Hadi tried to cut—no luck. Gudi tried to cut—no luck either. Chati tried—no use. Mati tried—no way. Even my father couldn’t do it. Only I succeeded, I swear.

So, there lies this duck on the ground. We look at it, and it’s not a duck at all, but a whole buffalo! Hadi tried to lift it—couldn’t. Gudi tried—no luck. Chati couldn’t lift it, and Mati didn’t succeed either. Even my father couldn’t lift it. But I grabbed it firmly and hoisted it onto my shoulder. And off we went.

We kept walking and walking until we reached a place where three villages stood together. However, two of the villages were invisible, and the third had no houses at all. We wandered through this deserted village and found three old women there. Two of them were dead, and the third wasn’t even breathing.

"Grannies," we said. "Let’s cook this duck with rice."

The old woman, the one who wasn’t breathing, bustled about and brought half a sack of rice and three pots. Two of them were riddled with holes, and the third had no bottom at all.

We filled the bottomless pot with water. Added the rice, put in the duck, and started cooking the soup. Though, we didn’t light a fire.

The soup kept cooking and cooking, the meat and rice boiled and evaporated—only water was left.

After the hunt, thoroughly hungry, we pounced on the food. We ate and ate, but in the end, we were still hungry.

More fairy tales

• The Tale of Azaran-Bulbul, the Thousand-Voiced Nightingale
• Why the Onion Became Bitter
• The Spirited Bride
• The Power of Habit
• The Paradise Flower