Tales from Hogwaller Holler: Christmas

© 2018 by Walter Reimer



Another story, huh? Well, let me finish my egg nog first. It’s made to an old recipe; goes down sweet and kicks you in the head like a feral horse.

Mm, that’s tasty. Oh, you’re still here? Fine, have a seat here by the fire.

Folks here in Hogwaller Holler are sort of generally in tune with the seasons. Living close to the land will do that to a fur, of course; you get a real feel for its rhythms, know what I mean? The leaves start to turn shades of red and yellow-gold, the air begins to get a little crisp, the whatever-it-is over in Bog Holler starts to get drowsy and slow. That sort of thing.

Well, there’s other ways, of course, and it traditionally starts up around Thanksgiving. Kids’ll start seeing their parents acting funny; being real sneaky and having talks with each other that stop as soon as their children enter the room. Sometimes they’ll get a glimpse of the Marañon website or something similar before their mom or dad clicks away from it. Sure, the kids will figure it out real quick.

It’s getting close to Christmas.

People like to keep to the old traditions in the Holler, so a bit after the first of December the Wise Woman will go up into the mountains and sing to the Old Man. Naturally, she’ll tell that big old oak tree that folks will want firewood, Christmas trees, and the Yule Log, but that he can sleep safe for the winter. She’ll finish by promising, as she and others have done before her, that she’ll come back in the Spring and dance for him. When that’s done, she’ll come back down to the town and let the Mayor and the police chief know. It’s the Mayor’s job to let people know where they can go to cut trees, and the Chief and his men will make sure no one gets out of bounds.

One fir tree gets judged big enough to last, and it’s cut down to be the Yule Log. It’s got to burn for a full twelve days, so it’s usually the older folk who decide as they’ve done it before, and have learned the trick of it from their fathers. It gets dragged down the mountain to the town square, with no machinery used, and it gets set up in a shed that’s built for it. It’ll be lit on Christmas Day, just before dawn, and it’s supposed to burn for twelve days straight.

Meanwhile, the town’s getting all gussied up. Applebaums’s general store gets its window display set out and the kids love it. Parts of the display, like the model railroad, are over a hundred years old, and you’ll see homes almost glowing from all the lights. You can expect carolers, and the local churches will hold pageants. Santa gets a lot of visits from people who want to give him their lists for presents in person and not mess around with the mail, or email for that matter.

The Solstice is an important holiday, almost as important as Christmas down in Hogwaller Holler, because it’s the longest night of the year. Little kids get all excited because that means that the Horned Hunter will be coming into town. It’s sort of like a play meant to call out to the sun and ask it to make the days longer.

You can hear him coming, the sound of chains rattling and horns blowing echoing down the mountain and you can see torches lighting his way. Pretty soon you can hear him shouting, “Up, boys! That’s right; to the hunt! Search ‘em out and bring ‘em to me! Bring me all the bad boys and girls!” His helpers seem to come out of nowhere, all dressed up like demons, and start running around the children.

Then he himself comes up, and he’s a sight. See, tradition holds that the Hunter’s a deer or a cervine of some sort, but nowadays anyone can get chosen. A few years back, we had Jim Carson’s cousin Nick play the hunter, and it was lots of fun seeing a cat about five feet tall trying to look menacing when he’s sporting a black cloak a few sizes too big and a set of antlers strapped to his head.

Now he shakes his chains and waves a spear around, shouting that he’s here to hunt down all the naughty little children, and he’s raising a huge ruckus about it. And that’s their cue.

I’m told that a few of the clergy in the Holler used to object to the Hunter; last one I can recall was Father Monteverde, but he was getting pretty close to retirement. Anyway, all the clergy in the town step up and face down the Hunter. The oldest of them up and says, “Begone, thing of darkness! You will not take these children, because the Sun will come again and drive you away!”

There’s a few furs as say he means Sun, and others that he means to say Son. Pretty near the same thing, folks in the Holler would say. No matter which you mean, the preachers all start singing Break Forth, O Beauteous Holy Light (yes, even Rabbi Kemp), and the Hunter takes to his heels with his demon helpers hot behind him. And the kids all cheer and a party starts up with lots of hot cocoa and egg nog – say there, you wouldn’t mind getting me a refill, would you? Thank you kindly.

The churches all have services on Christmas Eve, of course, and then it’s Christmas. The big public event’s the Yule Log getting lit, of course. I hear tell that, back in ’76, the shed it was in started burning too, and they just let it go, so long as it burned all twelve days as it’s supposed to.

So that’s Christmas down in Hogwaller Holler. Pretty sure other small towns do something similar.

Say – can you go get me another egg nog? After two of these, I’m not so sure I can walk right now.



End