Ольга Токарчук - Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead

In citing these recognised historical facts, I demand that my Suppositions and Conjectures be given serious consideration. They demonstrate that similar thinking has occurred in European jurisdiction before, and that they can be taken as a precedent.

At the same time I petition for the Deer and other eventual Animal Culprits to go unpunished, because their alleged deed was a reaction to the soulless and cruel conduct of the victims, who were, as I have thoroughly investigated, active hunters.

First thing next morning I drove to the post office. I wanted the letter to be sent registered, as then I would have proof of posting. However, it all seemed a little pointless, for the Police station is bang opposite the post office, on the other side of the street.

As I emerged, a taxi stopped in front of me and the Dentist leaned out of it. When he drinks, he has himself carried about by taxi, and that’s how he spends the money he earns from pulling teeth.

‘Hey, Mrs Duszeńko,’ he called. He had a red face and a foggy look in his eyes.

‘Duszejko,’ I corrected him.

‘The day of vengeance is nigh. The regiments of hell are closing in,’ he shouted, and waved at me through the window. Then with a squeal of tyres the taxi set off in the direction of Kudowa.

Two weeks before the mushroom pickers’ planned festivity I went to see Good News, and in the back room we searched through tons of clothes looking for costumes. Unfortunately there wasn’t a very large choice of things for adults. Most of the fancy dress was for children, and here there was plenty to raise a smile – the children could be whomever they wished – a Frog, Zorro, Batman or a Tiger. But we did manage to find a pretty good wolf mask. So I decided to be a Wolf; we fashioned the rest of the outfit ourselves by finishing off a furry jumpsuit with paws made out of stuffed gloves. The costume fitted me perfectly. Dressed in the mask, I could freely look out at the world from inside the jaws of a Wolf.

It was worse for Oddball, unfortunately. We failed to dig out anything for such an imposing physique. Everything was too small for him. But finally Good News hit upon a simple, but brilliant idea. Since we already had a Wolf… All that remained was to bring Oddball round to this idea.

Early on the day of the party, after a nocturnal storm, I was studying the damage the downpour had caused to my experimental pea plants when I saw the forester’s car on the road and waved at him to stop. He was a nice young man for whom my private name was Wolf Eye, for I’d swear blind there was something odd about his pupils – they seemed to be an uncanny shape, oblong. He was here because of the storm too – he was counting how many large old spruces had been damaged in the entire area.

‘Are you familiar with Cucujus haematodes ?’ I asked him, passing from initial courtesies to the heart of the Matter.

‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘More or less.’

‘And did you know that they lay their eggs in tree trunks?’

‘Yes, unfortunately.’ I could see that he was trying hard to foretell where this interrogation was leading. ‘In the process they destroy healthy, valuable wood. But what are you driving at?’

I briefly presented the issue. I repeated almost exactly what Boros had told me. But from Wolf Eye’s expression I could tell that he took me for a madwoman. His eyes narrowed in a nice, patronising smile and he spoke to me as if to a child.

‘Mrs Duszeńko…’

‘Duszejko,’ I corrected him.

‘You’re such a good woman. You care about everything in a very personal way. But surely you don’t imagine we’re going to stop harvesting timber because of some beetles in the logs? Have you anything cold to drink?’

Suddenly all the energy drained out of me. He wasn’t taking me seriously. If I were Boros, or Black Coat, perhaps he’d have heard me out, considered his arguments and debated the matter. But to him I was just an old woman, gone off her rocker living in this wilderness. Useless and unimportant. Though I wouldn’t say he disliked me. I could sense that he was even quite fond of me.

I trudged into the house, and he followed me. He made himself comfortable on the terrace and lapped up half a litre of compote. As I watched him drink, it occurred to me that I could have mixed extract of lily-of-the-valley into his compote, or powdered some of the sleeping pills that Ali had prescribed for me and added those. And once he’d fallen asleep, I could have locked him in the boiler room and kept him prisoner for some time on bread and water. Or vice versa – I could have fattened him up and checked each day by the thickness of a finger whether he was fit to be roasted yet. He’d have learned respect.

‘There’s nothing natural about nature any more,’ he said, and at that point I saw who this forester really was: just another official. ‘It’s too late. The natural processes have gone wrong, and now we must keep it all in control to make sure there’s no catastrophe.’

‘Are we in danger of a Catastrophe because of the Cucujus beetle?’

‘Of course not. We need timber for stairs and floors, furniture and paper. What do you imagine? Do you think we’re going to tiptoe about the forest because Cucujus haematodes is reproducing there? We have to shoot the foxes, or else their population will grow so large that they’ll be a threat to other species. A few years ago there were so many hares that they were destroying the crops…’

‘We could scatter contraceptives to stop them from multiplying instead of killing them.’

‘Do you realise how much that costs? And it’s not effective. One gets too little, another gets too much. We have to keep some sort of order, seeing the natural one no longer exists.’

‘Foxes…’ I began, with the noble Consul in mind, going to the Czech Republic and back again.

‘Well, quite,’ he interrupted me. ‘Can you imagine what a hazard those foxes released from the farm present, for example? Luckily some of them have been caught now and taken to another farm.’

‘No,’ I said with a groan. I found this thought unbearable, but at once consoled myself with the idea that at least they’d known a little freedom.

‘They weren’t suited to life at liberty, Mrs Duszejko. They would have perished. They didn’t know how to hunt, their digestive systems were altered, their muscles were weak. What use would their beautiful fur be to them at liberty?’

He cast me a look, and I saw that the pigment in his irises was very unevenly distributed. His pupils were completely normal, round, just like yours and mine.

‘Don’t get so upset about things. Don’t take the whole world on your shoulders. It’ll all be fine,’ he said, getting up from his chair. ‘All right, off to work. We’re going to take down those spruce trees. Would you like to buy some wood for the winter? It’d be a bargain.’

I refused. Once he was gone, I felt the weight of my own body acutely, and had no desire at all to go to a party, least of all the boring mushroom pickers’ ball. People who spend all day tramping about the forest in search of mushrooms are bound to be deadly boring.

I felt pretty hot and uncomfortable in my costume; my tail trailed on the ground and I had to be careful not to tread on it. I drove the Samurai up to Oddball’s house and admired his peonies while I waited for him. He soon appeared in the doorway. I was speechless with wonder. He was wearing black lace-up boots, white stockings and a sweet flowery dress with a little apron. On his head, tied under his chin with a bow, was a little red hood.