The Story of the Happy Blueberry Elf

But then, after her afternoon nap, she yawned and thought, “Hmm... maybe I overdid it a bit?” And as things go in this world, she created a bit of mischief and drew a blueberry elf into existence. Like yin and yang, like black and white. She simply created the guardian of the blueberries, the blueberry elf.

Well, I don’t want to paint a blueberry on the wall, but I think we’ve all met him already. Every one of us has encountered his tricks and antics. No? You say? Oh yes, you have. You see, a blueberry is naturally a beautiful little blue ball, and when you pick it, it makes a pop, and that berry is in your cup. One after another. Or you can string them onto a blade of grass and eat them one by one like a little blueberry waterfall. They never pop on their own, though – that only happens in your mouth, where the real blueberry ecstasy happens. And your mouth ends up all blue. Yes, your mouth. Nothing else. That’s what a mouth is made for, after all – for a proper blueberry treat.

But be careful. Pick your blueberries quietly, so not a single branch of the blueberry bush creaks, for heaven's sake, don’t break it. Uh-oh. You can probably guess what happens next? That’s when the trouble starts. The blueberry elf wakes up, and he has just one job in the whole world, in the entire forest. To protect the blueberry patches from greedy people. And when they start yelling above his mossy little house, that’s when he can’t hold it in any longer and starts being a real grump. Right?

“Don’t eat my blueberries, you lot, leave them be!”

If you understood elf language and could hear it through the sobs of the spring wind and the squeaking of the spruces, you’d probably hear him shouting, “Go away, go away, you lot! Don’t stick your paws in there. I’ll paint your fingers so badly you won’t even find your way out of the forest…” All sorts of grumbling and yelling. You’d be scared. And suddenly you’d realize that the blueberries are crumbling in your fingers, every other one is falling to the ground, you sit in the blueberries, and now you’re covered in blue. On your white t-shirt, on your bottom, on your shoes, and all over your hair. Your hands are blue with blueberries, even though they were just clean a moment ago. It’s no coincidence. That’s the blueberry elf jumping around you, grumbling and causing a ruckus. He kicks the blueberries out of your hands, then smears blueberry jam on you and draws magical runes, telling you to run away and never come back.

Why does this crazy elf do that? Because he’s protecting his blueberries. He thinks they’re only his, and he makes sure everyone knows it. But does he treat animals this way? The deer, squirrels, or hedgehogs? Does he cause trouble for them too? No, not them...

And why aren’t the animals painted in blueberries from their heads to toess?

Because the animals bring the elf gifts. They know how much he loves his blueberries and how he won’t share them. Just imagine, he’s even got them all counted. He knows exactly when each one was born. Every night, by the moonlight and stars, he wipes them with magical dust so they sparkle and shine through the forest. And then you can probably imagine how upset he gets when someone just eats them. But the animals know. They know how much he cares for his blueberries, so when they want to nibble on a few, they trade them for something else he needs.

The deer bring him a bit of hay for his nest, the hedgehogs bring an apple in exchange, the squirrels bring hazelnuts (which the blueberry elf loves), the ants help him clean his home, and the bees always bring him a cup of honey. And people? They just pick and eat. They don’t know how angry the elf gets.

And why doesn’t the elf say anything?

Ha ha, he does shout and grumble. But people don’t hear him. I actually know one blueberry elf. You might think his name is something like Blueberry-lover, Boroslav, or Blueberry. Don’t be fooled. His name is simply Mark. The blueberry elf Mark. How do I know? Well, we talk. One time, I was sitting in a blueberry patch near Kytlice, looking at my blue shorts, which were all covered in blueberry stains. I thought, “Wow, Standa, you really know how to sit in blueberries, don’t you?” And I looked at the bright blue splash on my pocket, my leg, my wrist, my hand. “Tell me, Standa,” I thought, “how do you do this?” And bam, a blueberry hit me between the eyes. No way. And pop, another blueberry hit me in the ear.

So I thought, there’s definitely some forest elf around here. So I pulled out a piece of gum from my backpack, which was of course blue too, and I placed the gum on a rock near the blueberry bush. Suddenly, the gum wiggled and poof, it was gone. Just like that. Gone. In broad daylight. Ugh. “Do you have another one? It’s really good.” And bam, like a bubble popping. Well, I thought, I must’ve drank a lot yesterday, but I placed another piece of gum on the rock and poof, it was gone again. “It’s so sweet, thanks a lot, and sorry about the blue jam. I thought you were just another rude human,” I heard from the forest. “Oh, and my name’s Mark.”

“You know, I can’t show myself, but I’m as big as ten blueberries tall and ten wide. I love disco and my hair’s done according to the latest forest trends. I just comb my blue tail straight back. I talk a lot, and I also like to make things up. I just kind of tell stories. But that’s what we blueberry elves do,” Mark said. “Oh, and no one comes here anymore. People aren’t allowed in the forest because of the bark beetles, so there’s no fun around here.”

And so I promised to visit him regularly, and we chat. He tells me about other blueberry elves, but he hasn’t seen them for a while. He asked if I could bring a basket of giant blueberries with morning dew instead of whipped cream for his beloved blueberry girl, Olinka. He really likes her, but she probably doesn’t know about him, and he’s a bit shy. Olinka lives in the old root opposite his hill. “Okay,” I promised. And on my way home, I left his green basket with the goodies and a note on the hill across from his. What wouldn’t I do for my new friend?

Oh, and did you know that blueberry elves write books?

Yes, they’re one of the few with forest blueberry ink. So they can write forest books. They take leaves from maples or beeches and write. That’s how they roll. Literary style. Mark was telling me that he’s thinking of writing a whole series called “Famous Homes of the Blueberry Elves, or Maybe Not.” He’ll read them to me. So I’m really looking forward to seeing him again after winter.

You can have a great friend like that too. All you have to do is, when you’re heading to the forest, whether it’s for mushrooms or blueberries, bring a little treat for the blueberry elf. A piece of chocolate, a leftover candy, or a piece of fruit. Put it in a blueberry bush and whisper, “Blueberry elf, here’s a gift from me, eat it and don’t paint me with blue.” And suddenly, like magic, you won’t be covered in blue all over your clothes, because the elf won’t bother you. And if you bring him some watermelon-flavored gum (that’s a sure thing), he might even start talking to you and you’ll become friends. Try it and see.