How Salt Grew in the Field Near the Town of Schilda and How the Schildbürgers Tried to Harvest It

The field near Schilda turned green, then bloomed, and eventually, what the townsfolk had taken for salt ripened and, to tell the truth, most resembled thistles, nettles, or, in a word, weeds.

One day, the Schildburgers all went out together to inspect their salt field: the mayor led the way, followed by the councilors, judges, and then the common folk. They walked around the field on one side, then the other, and decided it was time to start the harvest. Some began sharpening sickles, others hitched horses, some prepared carts, and others readied flails—after all, they needed to thresh the salt. However, as soon as they began the harvest, they immediately dropped their sickles. The salt turned out to be so sharp and strong that it burned their hands up to their elbows. They should have worn gloves, but the Schildburgers were afraid of being laughed at—it was summer, after all!

Some clever folks suggested mowing the salt with scythes, like grass for hay, but another pointed out that this couldn’t be done—the ears would scatter. Others proposed shooting the salt off with bullets from arquebuses. But here another problem arose: there were no skilled marksmen among the Schildburgers, and they didn’t want to invite outsiders. They were afraid their secret of growing salt might be stolen. So, they had to leave the entire salt crop unharvested. And if there had been little salt in Schilda before this venture, now there was almost none left: what they didn’t eat themselves, they had, in effect, sown.

They should have dried last year’s snow on the stove and used it instead of salt—it’s also granular—but there was no one around to advise them.

And none of the Schildburgers could understand why the salt was so biting. Had they used the wrong crop rotation? Had they added too much manure, or perhaps not enough?

And so they vowed to tend to their salt field even more carefully.

I, for one, knew that nettles grew in that field, and the Schildburgers, mistaking them for salt, got thoroughly stung. But I kept quiet: since they were fools, let them remain fools. Besides, another thought was stirring in my jester’s head: we—and the Schildburgers are no exception—don’t like having our mistakes pointed out or our foolishness highlighted. After all, it’s not for one donkey to call another long-eared!

More fairy tales

• About How the Chief of the Salt Guard Kept His Oath
• Hansel and Gretel
• Why the Schildburgers Decided to Save Themselves from Their Great Wisdom with Foolishness
• How the Schildburgers Hid the Bells
• The Shoemaker and the Elves