The Farmer's Little Helper

My friend Marie and her husband Robert lived on a small farm in the countryside north of Quebec City in Canada. They took over the farm after her grandfather passed away and her grandmother was unable to keep up the farm work by herself. Before moving out to live with other relatives in the suburbs of Quebec, Marie’s grandmother advised her, “Be sure to do well by the lutin that watches over the home and rids the place of pests such as mice and beetles.”

When the French came to America and settled in Canada, they brought their folklore and superstitions with them. One of those superstitions involved a goblin called “lutin.” The lutin was said to be able to take on many forms and performed good deeds or malicious mischief, depending on how they were treated.

Robert gruffly dismissed such talk and said, “That is nothing but old wives’ tales and superstitious folly.”

Marie was a devout farm wife who kept an immaculate house, cooked delicious meals, canned fruits and vegetables to store in the cellar for the winter, nurtured her flower in the yard, and attended church every Sunday. The aroma of fresh-baked apple pies cooling on the sill of an open window often permeated the kitchen, and the fragrance of geraniums from her flourishing flower garden filled the living room. In spite of Robert’s objections, she kept a bowl of fresh water and occasionally left a few scraps of food in the yard for her guardian sprite.

Robert was a strong young man who worked hard tilling the fields. His character was basically good, but he had a tendency to use profane language when upset, frequently causing Marie to admonish him, “Robert, watch your mouth!” His fields were blighted and yielded only shriveled stalks of tawny corn and scrimpy, dried-up tomatoes for all his efforts. He also hunted for game with his dogs and tended the various farm animals.

One evening while Marie was away visiting her grandmother, Robert came in from the fields and started to warm the savory dinner his wife had prepared for him before she left. Presently, he heard a scuffling sound in the storage cellar under the house. He went down through the outside entrance to investigate and saw what appeared to be a black muff lying on the floor under a shelf of canned goods stored for the winter. As he reached for it, it rolled away. He reached for it again, and it moved away again. Then he realized that it was not a muff but some sort of creature. Angry now, Robert started cursing and chasing the critter. The animal dodged him again and scooted outside. Robert ran after it, still spouting profanity, and finally cornered it between the tool shed and a stone wall. The animal made a hissing sound and stamped its front feet. As Robert grabbed it, he became engulfed in a foul smelling spray. In panic, he dropped the little monster, ran to the animal pen, and jumped head first into the water trough. There he remained totally submerged, except for his head, until Marie found him upon her return later in the evening. His clothes had to be destroyed as the odor remained on them for several days.

Marie persuaded him that it was punishment for his wicked-mouth ways. From that day forward, Robert never cursed again, and he was sure to accompany Marie to church every Sunday. Rains came in the spring to nourish the field, and at the end of the summer they were enjoying luscious yellow corn and sumptuous juicy tomatoes with their meals.