Tag: Yule Cat

Sheesh. Where does the time go? Only 13 days of folklore and paganism until Christmas.

Gävle, Sweden, has already constructed its 40-foot Yule Goat. Krampus has hurled all the wicked children into hellfire. Black Peter has stirred the ire of Dutch protesters.

But, no time to be wistful. It’s December the 12th. Here come the Yule Lads!

These days, the Yule Lads are usually personified as a bevy of affable Santa Clauses. Except, being Icelandic, not only do they leave gifts for the nice; the naughty get rotten potatoes. That’s the sanitized version. You don’t have to dig too deeply to discover their true selves.

The Lads are thirteen in number. In Icelandic lore, they are annoying pranksters at best; at worst, they are homicidal trolls who devour children. Mostly they steal from and harass Icelandic farmers.

The Lads descend from the mountains, staggering their arrivals and departures, beginning thirteen nights before Christmas.

Each has his own exasperating speciality, whether it be harassing sheep, stealing milk, eating crust out of pans, licking spoons, stealing leftovers, licking bowls, slamming doors, eating skyr (a kind of Icelandic yogurt), stealing sausages, peeping through windows, sniffing for bread, stealing meat with a hook, or eating candles.

Their mother is the ogress Grýla, who descends from the mountains in search of children to boil in her cauldron. If you happen to find yourself in her gnarled claws, remember, she has to release you if you repent.

The Yule Lads are frequently accompanied by the Yule Cat. The cat eats children who don’t receive new clothes before Christmas. This is tied in to the Icelandic work ethic. In the old days, if farm hands processed their autumn wool in a timely fashion, they were rewarded with new clothes. If not, they received nothing, leaving them fair game for the Yule Cat. Better sheer them sheep!

In 1746, the practice of parents tormenting their children with Christmas monster stories was officially banned.

To my knowledge, there has been no classical music written about the Yule Lads. As with Krampus, some enterprising composer could make a real killing. All you need is one Christmas hit, and then every year you can kick back and collect those sweet holiday royalties.

Here is a selection of Yule Lad songs I found on YouTube. You can see that the bar has been set awfully low.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BJ4nSFe32ys

How “My Darling Clementine” got over there is anyone’s guess. Maybe Leif Erikson brought it back with him.

December 12. Here come the Yule Lads!

Long-time readers of this page know how much I love me some arcane Yuletide traditions. There’s Krampus and Knecht Ruprecht and Belsnickel and the Yule Goat. Since Krampus, sadly, looks to have jumped the shark with a move to Hollywood and a major motion picture contract, I seek consolation in the Icelandic tradition of the Yule Lads.

Today, the Yule Lads are frequently personified as a kind of bevy of affable Santa Clauses. Except, being Icelandic, they either leave gifts (if you’ve been nice) or rotting potatoes (if you’ve been naughty). That’s the cleaned-up version. You don’t have to dig too deep to discover their true selves.

The Lads are thirteen in number. In Icelandic lore, they are annoying pranksters at best; at worst, they are homicidal trolls who devour children. Mostly they steal from and harass Icelandic farmers.

The Lads descend from the mountains, staggering their arrivals and departures, beginning thirteen nights before Christmas. Each has his own exasperating speciality.

There’s the peg-legged Stekkjarstaur (Sheep-Cote Clod), who harasses sheep. He arrives on December 12 and takes his leave on Christmas Day.

There’s Giljagaur (Gully Gawk), who lurks in gullies, biding his time to sneak into the cowshed and steal milk. He turns up on December 13 and returns to his lair on December 26.

There’s the diminutive Stúfur (Stubby), who steals pans in order to eat the crust out of them. He trots in on December 14 and totters off on December 27.

There’s Þvörusleikir (Spoon-Licker), who, well, licks spoons. He’s very gaunt, due to malnutrition. He shows up on December 15 and disappears, like Kafka’s hunger artist, into the straw on December 28.

There’s Pottaskeffil (Pot-Scraper), another one who steals leftovers from pots. He comes a-calling on December 16 and returns to the hills on December 29.

There’s Askasleikir (Bowl-Licker). Again, he licks bowls. I’d advise you to use extra soap, except once he licks the bowls, he usually steals them. He steals in on December 17 and slips out on December 30.

There’s Hurðaskellir (Door-Slammer), who slams doors in the night. He raises a ruckus from December 18 to December 31.

There’s Skyrgámur (Skyr-Gobbler), a Yule Lad who’s crazy for skyr, a kind of Icelandic yogurt. He sates himself from December 19 to January 1.

There’s Bjúgnakrækir (Sausage-Snatcher), who’s crazy for the pig-products. He hides in the rafters and swipes smoked sausages. He makes his mark from December 20 to January 2.

There’s Gluggagægir (Window-Peeper), who peeps, creepily, through windows, looking for things to steal. He cases the joint from December 21 to January 3.

There’s Gáttaþefur (Doorway-Sniffer), who sniffs around the door jamb with his abnormally large proboscis, in search of laufabrauð, Icelandic Christmas bread. He hungers from December 22 to January 4.

There’s Ketkrókur (Meat-Hook), who uses a hook to steal meat. He steals from December 23 to January 5.

And finally, there’s Kertasníkir (Candle-Stealer), who pursues children so that he can eat their candles. (He likes tallow.) He’s a “light” eater from Christmas Eve, December 24, to Epiphany, January 6.

And you thought holiday visits from your relatives drove you batty!

Their mother is the ogress Grýla, who descends from the mountains in search of children to boil in her cauldron. If you happen to find yourself in her gnarled claws, remember, she has to release you if you repent.

The Yule Lads are frequently accompanied by the Yule Cat, which eats children who do not receive new clothes before Christmas. This is a tradition that definitely would have kept me from pouting under the clothes rack at the department store as my poor mother tried to get me presentable for the new school year.

Move over Krampus! Can a Yule Lads movie be far away?