# Fairy tales and stories (Andersen, Tegner)/The Storks

illustrator: Hans Tegner
THE STORKS
ON THE LAST HOUSE IN A LITTLE VILLAGE A PAIR OF STORKS HAD BUILT THEIR NEST.
THE STORKS
ON the last house in a little village a pair of storks had built their nest. Mother Stork sat in it with her four little young ones, who stretched out their heads and their little black beaks, for they had not yet become red. A little way off on the ridge of the roof stood Father Stork, erect and stiff; he had drawn up one of his legs, in order to show he was putting himself to some inconvenience in standing as sentry. One would think he was carved out of wood, so still did he stand. "I think it must look quite grand for my wife to have a sentry by her nest," thought he; "they can't know that I am her husband; they must think I have been ordered to stand here. It looks quite grand." And so he continued to stand on one leg.
In the street below a lot of children were playing about, and when they saw the storks one of the boldest of the boys began to sing the old verse about the stork, and afterward all the others joined in, but they sang it just as he could remember it:
"Storkey, storkey, sty oh! Swiftly homeward fly, oh! For your wife lies safe at rest, With four fledglings in the nest: The first, he shall be hanged! The second shall be spitted through! The third, he shall be roasted brown! The fourth shall be turned upside down!"
"Just listen to what those boys are singing," said the young storks; "they say we shall be hanged and roasted."
"Never mind what they are singing," said Mother Stork; "don't listen to them, and then it won't matter."
But the boys went on singing, and pointed their fingers at the storks. Only one of the boys, whose name was Peter, said it was a shame to make fun of the birds, and would not join in with the others. Mother Stork comforted her young ones and said: "Don't mind them! Just look how quietly your father takes it, standing there on one leg."
"We are so frightened!" said the young ones, and drew back their heads into the nest.
​Next day, when the children came again to play and saw the stork, they began their song again:
"The first, he shall be hanged!
The second shall be spitted through!"
"But we are not going to be hanged and spitted through, are we?" asked the young ones.
"No, of course not!" said the mother. "You are going to learn to fly, and I'll look after your training! Then we shall go into the fields and pay visits to the frogs; they will make their bow to us in the water, and sing, 'Croak, croak!' And then we shall eat them. It will be great fun!"
"And what then?" asked the young storks.
"Then all the storks all over the country will assemble, and the autumn manoeuvers will commence. Every one must be able to fly properly; that is of great importance, for the general will kill with his beak all those who cannot fly. So mind you learn as well as you can when the training begins!"
"Then we shall be killed, after all, just as the boys said; and just listen, now they are singing it again!"
"Listen to me, and not to them," said Mother Stork. "After the great manoeuvers we fly to the hot countries — oh, ever so far from here, across mountains and forests. We shall fly to Egypt, where there are three-cornered stone houses which end in a point above the clouds; they are called pyramids, and are older than any stork can imagine. And there is a river there, which overflows its banks and leaves the land covered with mud. You walk about in the mud and eat frogs."
"Oh, my!" said all the young ones.
"Yes, it is so delightful! One does nothing but eat all day, and while we are enjoying ourselves down there, there is not in this country a green leaf on the trees, and it is so cold here that the clouds freeze to pieces and fall down in little white rags." It was the snow she referred to, but she could not explain it any better.
"Do the naughty little boys also freeze to pieces?" asked the young storks.
"No, they do not freeze to pieces. But they are not very far from it; they have to sit indoors in dark rooms, and mope and shiver. You, however, can fly about in foreign countries, where there are flowers and warm sunshine."
FATHER STORK CAME FLYING HOME EVERY DAY WITH NICE FROGS, LITTLE SNAKES, AND ALL KINDS OF DAINTIES FOR STORKS.
"Now you must learn to fly!" said Mother Stork one day; and so all the four young ones had to go out on the ridge of the roof. How they reeled! They had to balance themselves with their wings, and yet they were nearly falling down.
"NOW YOU MUST LEARN TO FLY!" SAID MOTHER STORK ONE DAY.
"Look at me!" said the mother. "This is the way to hold your head. And your feet this way. One, two! one, two! That's the way to help yourselves on in the world." And then she flew a little way. The young storks made a little clumsy jump, when—bump!—there they lay, for they were too heavy in the body.
"I don't want to fly," said one of the young storks, and crept back into the nest; "I don't care to go to the hot countries."
"Do you want to freeze to death here when the winter comes? Do ​you want the boys to come and hang you and spit you and roast you? I will just call them!"
"Oh, no!" said the young stork; and then he hopped out on the roof again to the others. On the third day they were able to fly a little, and then they thought they could also soar into the air, and this they tried to do, but — bump! — down they fell, and so they had to use their wings again. The boys down in the street began singing their song:
"Storkey, storkey — "
"Shall we fly down and peck their eyes out?" said the young storks.
"No, leave them alone," said the mother; "only listen to me — that's more important. One, two, three! Now to the left round the chimney. That was well done. The last stroke with the wings was done so beautifully and correctly that you shall have permission to come with me to the swamp to-morrow. There are several nice stork families coming there with their children. Let them see that mine are the nicest; so mind you hold yourselves erect; it looks well and commands respect."
"But are we not going to have our revenge on those naughty boys?" asked the young storks.
"Let them scream as much as they like. "you are going to fly up to the clouds, and will come to the land of the pyramids, while they have to remain here shivering, without seeing a green leaf or a sweet apple." "Yes, we will be revenged," they whispered to one another; and so they went on practicing.
Of all the boys in the street no one was more persistent in singing the mocking verse than the one who had begun it, and he was quite a little fellow, not more than six years old. The young stork thought of course he was a hundred years old, for he was so much bigger than their mother and father, and what did they know about children's ages and how big human beings can be?
All their revenge was to fall upon this boy; he had first begun it, and he was always going on with it. The young storks were very angry, and as they grew bigger they were less likely to tolerate it; their mother had at last to promise them that they should have their revenge, but not till the last day when they were leaving the country.
"We must see, first, how you get on at the great manoeuver. If you don't acquit yourselves well, the general will run you through with his beak, and then the boys will be right, after all, at least in one respect. Now let me see you try."
"That you shall!" said the young ones; and so they set to work with a good will and practiced every day till they could fly so nicely and lightly that it was a pleasure to look at them.
​The manœuver was a trial of strength; the young storks had to fly over forests and towns to see how well they could fly, for it was a long journey they had before them. The young storks did so well that they got "excellent" as their mark, and frogs and snakes as prizes. This was the very highest award, and as for the frogs and snakes, they were to eat them, which the young storks did.
"Now we'll be revenged!" they said.
"Yes, of course," said Mother Stork. "What I have been thinking over is just the right thing. I know where the pond is in which all the little children are lying till the storks come to fetch them to their parents. There the pretty little babies lie sleeping and dreaming so sweetly as they never will again. All parents like to have a little child, and all children like to have a sister or brother. We will now fly over to the pond and fetch one to each of the children who have not sung the wicked song and made fun of the storks. None of the other children shall have any."
"But the boy who began the song—that naughty, wicked boy," cried the young storks, "what shall we do to him?"
"In the pond there lies a little dead baby, who has dreamed itself to death. We will take this baby to him, and then he will cry because we have brought him a dead little brother. But what about the good boy? Surely you have not forgotten him who said, 'It is a shame to make fun of the birds.' We will bring him both a brother and a sister, and as his name was Peter, all of you shall also be called Peter."
And what she said came to pass, and all the storks were called "Peter," and that is what they are still called.