Karin Fossum - The Caller

With his clear blue eyes Theo looked up at his father. ‘The moose,’ he repeated. ‘I bet he runs when he sees us.’ He laughed loudly and looked at his father for reassurance.

‘Of course he’ll run,’ Hannes said confidently. ‘He’s probably hiding behind the trees watching us right now. After all, we’re in his territory. That’s how he views it anyway, wouldn’t you say? So we should be on our best behaviour, not scream and yell. We must respect nature. Everyone who walks on Glenna should be humble and tread lightly.’

Suddenly he veered off the trail and took a few steps into the woods. Theo followed cautiously, glancing around before each step. He thought he heard a rattling sound. Sitting on a fallen tree, he watched as his father pulled the knife from his belt.

‘Anyone who enters the woods needs a walking stick,’ he said. ‘A big one for me and a little one for you. To support us. And so we have something to fence with should we run into any mad cows. You shouldn’t underestimate cows. They’re very stupid, but they weigh a ton.’

He snapped a branch from a tree and began tearing off leaves and twigs. When he was done, the stick had a chalk-white tip.

‘You can spear perch with this when we reach the water,’ he said. He thrust the stick at Theo.

Theo sniffed it and found that it smelled good.

‘Everything we need is in the woods,’ Hannes said. ‘Do you realise that? Food and water. Sun and warmth. We could live and work here, hunt, fell trees. Build a house. That’s what people did in the olden days. What a great life it must have been, Theo. Wake at dawn, sleep at nightfall. All the bird calls and animal sounds.’

Theo nodded. His father’s words transported him to a magical place.

Then Hannes made a walking stick for himself, one that was longer and thicker. They returned to the trail, like two goatherds at work. Theo couldn’t restrain himself; he hopped and danced, his blue eyes fastened on his father’s broad back. After fifteen minutes they came to a crossroads where there was a sign with several maps and a request from the county. The forest is a pasture for animals.It is a workplace for loggers,hunters and fishermen.The forest is for recreation and pleasure.Please be considerate of others.

Theo read the request with a clear and cheerful voice. Father and son nodded at each other, then walked on. In a short while they passed St Olav’s Spring, and both drank gulps of the fresh water. From there it took forty minutes to get to Snellevann. They sat on a rock near the water and looked across.

Hannes put an arm on Theo’s shoulder and pulled him close. ‘We’re lucky, you and me.’

Theo was in complete agreement. He could feel the strength in his father’s body, could hear the whisper from the big woods and the life all around them.

‘I brought us drinks,’ Hannes said. ‘Let’s see.’ He dug around in his small rucksack. ‘You can choose between Solo and Sprite.’

Theo chose Solo. He put the bottle to his mouth and drank. The fizz made his eyes water.

Hannes rummaged in his rucksack once more, searching for binoculars. He put them up to his eyes, moving the binoculars slowly back and forth across the water, then to the ridges beyond.

‘Do you see anything?’ Theo asked.

‘Sheep,’ Hannes reported. ‘Up in the fields. Do you want to see?’

He handed the binoculars to Theo, and Theo tried to find the sheep, but it took a while. The image swayed before his eyes, and almost made him dizzy. At first he just saw some bushes and a stone dyke; because he couldn’t hold the binoculars steady, the dyke floated up and down. Suddenly, it was as if the sheep tumbled into his field of vision.

‘Is the image sharp?’ Hannes asked. ‘Can you see them clearly?’

Theo nodded. ‘They’re grazing.’

‘Like cows, they eat all day. What a life. Some live like kings.’

Theo’s arms grew tired from holding the binoculars, but he didn’t want to let them go. He didn’t want to head home again, either; he wanted to sit here with his father for ever, on the warm rock near Snellevann, with the binoculars at his eyes.

‘Mama must be done with the dishes by now,’ Hannes said.

‘And she’s in the hammock,’ Theo said.

‘And she’s snoring so the birds are flying off in fright.’

For a moment they chuckled at Wilma whom they loved so much. Theo raised the binoculars again. The sheep lay like white specks on the green hillside. He caught sight of a ramshackle old barn, and far to the right, a few red cows.

‘There’s something’s odd about one of the sheep,’ he reported.

Hannes waited for further explanation.

‘It’s different.’

‘Is it black?’

Theo shook his head. ‘No. It’s more orange.’

‘C’mon. Orange. You watch too many films.’

Hannes grabbed the binoculars. Through the lens he saw an orange-coloured sheep among the white ones. It moved around comfortably, apparently without knowing of its glaring peculiarity. The sight was so unusual that Hannes stayed put, staring.

‘I can’t believe it,’ he said. ‘What on earth have they done with that sheep? He looks like an orange on four legs.’

Hannes’s laughter rang out over Snellevann. For quite some time they scrutinised the orange-coloured sheep. The binoculars passed between them, and each time it was Theo’s turn, he was transfixed by the unusual sight. Then he leapt from the rock and ran around, waving his arms enthusiastically. Hannes worried about the binoculars. They were from Zeiss, the most expensive kind you could buy, and he didn’t want to see them smashed on the rocks.

‘Sit down,’ he ordered. ‘Careful with the equipment.’

Theo sat obediently and handed the binoculars back to his father.

‘Someone’s attacked the poor thing with spray paint,’ Hannes confirmed. ‘Maybe a sheep tagger?’

He looked once more at the sheep, couldn’t get enough of it. Lifted the binoculars, lowered them again. Shook his heavy, Dutch head. ‘Isn’t that the colour they use in the Highway Department?’ he said. ‘When they measure and mark the road? The kind of colour that glows in the dark. I’m just wondering.’

‘The other sheep don’t seem to care,’ Theo commented. ‘They just keep eating as if it was nothing.’

‘That’s because sheep are pretty stupid. They have brains the size of coffee beans.’

To get a better look, Hannes scrambled to his feet, and Theo stood up too. They observed the unusual sheep. Then Hannes searched in his pocket for his mobile. He wanted to call the local newspaper and tell them about the strange discovery. While his father made the call, Theo put the bottle of Solo to his lips and drank. He was happy.

‘My name is Bosch,’ said the father. ‘Hannes Bosch. We’re in the woods down by Snellevann, my son and I, and we’ve found something incredible. Send a reporter. Bring a photographer — with colour film. Otherwise you’ll miss the point.’

He listened a moment, nodded several times, and winked at Theo.

‘Really quite amusing,’ he said. ‘You won’t believe it until you see it.’

Theo drank more of the sweet carbonated liquid. He picked up his walking stick again, sat and waved it as his father talked with the newspaper reporter.

‘You should probably contact the sheep farmer and ask him to bring shears,’ Hannes said. ‘He’s going to have to trim right to the skin. But take a picture first, for goodness’ sake. Ha ha … No, I don’t know who owns the flock, but as I said, they’re out on the hillside above Snellevann … Fifty or so … It could be Sverre Skarning’s. You could start with him. One of the ewes has a yellow-and-blue tag. If it means anything to you. Or if he asks. Yellow and blue.’