Quackling / Half-Chick / Demi-Coq (Europe)

I participated in a Readers Theater event today where we read a script called "Quackling" by the great Aaron Shepard (find out more at his website). The key feature of this story is an unexpected hero, a little duck, who escapes from the king's death threats with the help of unusual friends that he carries in a sack. This is one of my favorite folktales, and it even has its own Wikipedia article: Drakestail. 

Drakestail is the name of the version published Andrew Lang's Red Fairy Book (1890), and that is the version Shepard worked with. Lang took his story from a French source, the folktales of Charles Marelles (1888): Bout-d'-Canard. In the Spanish version of Half-Chick, Medio Pollito, the hero is rude and fails to gain helpers, so things turn out very differently; you can read that version in Andrew Lang too; it's in the Green Fairy Book.

The ATU classification is 715: Half-Chick: "Half-Chick leaves home in order to claim back a borrowed (stolen) object (money. On his way he meets animals (fox, wolf) and a river. he takes them along by swallowing them (carries them under his wings). When claiming the money from his debtor, Half-Chick is imprisoned with animals who try to kill him. Fox and wolf eat the attacking animals, and when Half-Chick is thrown into a fire, the river extinguishes it. Finally Half-Chick obtains the money by swallowing. At home he is beaten by his own (king) and expels the money (he is eaten by his owner and crows from his stomach)."

Quackling fits the classification in some ways, but I far prefer the happy ending of Quackling!

 There is a 40-page monograph on this folktale by Ralph Boggs, published in 1933: "The Halfchick Tale in Spain and France." This book is hard to find, but you can see a summary of Boggs's findings in Thompson's The Folktale, which you can find online. 

At the bottom of this blog post you will find a public domain version of this story: Drakestail, published in the Red Fairy Book by Andrew Lang, with illustrations H. J. Ford and Lancelot Speed; from the style, I'm guessing the illustrations below are by Lancelot Speed. You can read this book online at the Internet Archive. 

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illustration by Lancelot Speed

Drakestail

(a French folktale)

Drakestail was very little, that is why he was called Drakestail; but tiny as he was he had brains, and he knew what he was about, for having begun with nothing he ended by amassing a hundred crowns. 

Now the King of the country, who was very extravagant and never kept any money, having heard that Drakestail had some, went one day in his own person to borrow his hoard, and, my word, in those days Drakestail was not a little proud of having lent money to the King. 

But after the first and second year, seeing that they never even dreamed of paying the interest, he became uneasy, so much so that at last he resolved to go and see His Majesty himself, and get repaid. So one fine morning Drakestail, very spruce and fresh, takes the road, singing: 'Quack, quack, quack, when shall I get my money back?'

He had not gone far when he met friend Fox, on his rounds that way.

'Good-morning, neighbour,' says the friend, 'where are you off to so early?'

'I am going to the King for what he owes me.'

'Oh! take me with thee!'

Drakestail said to himself: 'One can't have too many friends.' . . . 'I will,' says he, 'but going on all-fours you will soon be tired. Make yourself quite small, get into my throat--go into my gizzard and I will carry you.'

'Happy thought!' says friend Fox.

He takes bag and baggage, and, presto! is gone like a letter into the post.

And Drakestail is off again, all spruce and fresh, still singing: 'Quack, quack, quack, when shall I have my money back?'

He had not gone far when he met his lady-friend Ladder, leaning on her wall.

'Good morning, my duckling,' says the lady friend, 'whither away so bold?'

'I am going to the King for what he owes me.'

'Oh! take me with thee!'

Drakestail said to himself: 'One can't have too many friends.' . . . 'I will,' says he, 'but with your wooden legs you will soon be tired. Make yourself quite small, get into my throat--go into my gizzard and I will carry you.'

'Happy thought!' says my friend Ladder, and nimble, bag and baggage, goes to keep company with friend Fox.

And 'Quack, quack, quack.' Drakestail is off again, singing and spruce as before. A little farther he meets his sweetheart, my friend River, wandering quietly in the sunshine.

'Thou, my cherub,' says she, 'whither so lonesome, with arching tail, on this muddy road?'

'I am going to the King, you know, for what he owes me.'

'Oh! take me with thee!'

Drakestail said to himself: 'We can't be too many friends.' . . . 'I will,' says he, 'but you who sleep while you walk will soon be tired. Make yourself quite small, get into my throat--go into my gizzard and I will carry you.'

'Ah! happy thought!' says my friend River.

She takes bag and baggage, and glou, glou, glou, she takes her place between friend Fox and my friend Ladder.

And 'Quack, quack, quack.' Drakestail is off again singing.

A little farther on he meets comrade Wasp's-nest, manoeuvring his wasps.

'Well, good-morning, friend Drakestail,' said comrade Wasp's- nest, 'where are we bound for so spruce and fresh?'

'I am going to the King for what he owes me.'

'Oh! take me with thee!'

Drakestail said to himself, 'One can't have too many friends.' . . . 'I will,' says he, 'but with your battalion to drag along, you will soon be tired. Make yourself quite small, go into my throat--get into my gizzard and I will carry you.'

'By Jove I that's a good idea!' says comrade Wasp's-nest.

And left file! he takes the same road to join the others with all his party. There was not much more room, but by closing up a bit they managed. . . . And Drakestail is off again singing.

He arrived thus at the capital, and threaded his way straight up the High Street, still running and singing 'Quack, quack, quack, when shall I get my money back?' to the great astonishment of the good folks, till he came to the King's palace.

He strikes with the knocker: 'Toc! toc!'

'Who is there?' asks the porter, putting his head out of the wicket.

' 'Tis I, Drakestail. I wish to speak to the King.'

'Speak to the King! . . . That's easily said. The King is dining, and will not be disturbed.'

'Tell him that it is I, and I have come he well knows why.'

The porter shuts his wicket and goes up to say it to the King, who was just sitting down to dinner with a napkin round his neck, and all his ministers.

'Good, good!' said the King laughing. 'I know what it is! Make him come in, and put him with the turkeys and chickens.'

The porter descends.

'Have the goodness to enter.'

'Good!' says Drakestail to himself, 'I shall now see how they eat at court.'

'This way, this way,' says the porter. 'One step further. . . . There, there you are.'

'How? what? in the poultry yard?'

Fancy how vexed Drakestail was!

'Ah! so that's it,' says he. 'Wait! I will compel you to receive me. Quack, quack, quack, when shall I get my money back?' But turkeys and chickens are creatures who don't like people that are not as themselves. When they saw the new-comer and how he was made, and when they heard him crying too, they began to look black at him.

'What is it? what does he want?'

Finally they rushed at him all together, to overwhelm him with pecks.

'I am lost!' said Drakestail to himself, when by good luck he remembers his comrade friend Fox, and he cries: 'Reynard, Reynard, come out of your earth, Or Drakestail's life is of little worth.'

Then friend Fox, who was only waiting for these words, hastens out, throws himself on the wicked fowls, and quick! quack! he tears them to pieces; so much so that at the end of five minutes there was not one left alive. And Drakestail, quite content, began to sing again, 'Quack, quack, quack, when shall I get my money back?'

When the King who was still at table heard this refrain, and the poultry woman came to tell him what had been going on in the yard, he was terribly annoyed.

He ordered them to throw this tail of a drake into the well, to make an end of him.

And it was done as he commanded. Drakestail was in despair of getting himself out of such a deep hole, when he remembered his lady friend, the Ladder.

'Ladder, Ladder, come out of thy hold, Or Drakestail's days will soon be told.'

My friend Ladder, who was only waiting for these words, hastens out, leans her two arms on the edge of the well, then Drakestail climbs nimbly on her back, and hop! he is in the yard, where he begins to sing louder than ever.

When the King, who was still at table and laughing at the good trick he had played his creditor, heard him again reclaiming his money, he became livid with rage.

He commanded that the furnace should be heated, and this tail of a drake thrown into it, because he must be a sorcerer.

The furnace was soon hot, but this time Drakestail was not so afraid; he counted on his sweetheart, my friend River.

'River, River, outward flow, Or to death Drakestail must go.'

My friend River hastens out, and errouf! throws herself into the furnace, which she floods, with all the people who had lighted it; after which she flowed growling into the hall of the palace to the height of more than four feet.

And Drakestail, quite content, begins to swim, singing deafeningly, 'Quack, quack, quack, when shall I get my money back?'

The King was still at table, and thought himself quite sure of his game; but when he heard Drakestail singing again, and when they told him all that had passed, he became furious and got up from table brandishing his fists.

'Bring him here, and I'll cut his throat! bring him here quick!' cried he.

And quickly two footmen ran to fetch Drakestail.

'At last,' said the poor chap, going up the great stairs, 'they have decided to receive me.'

Imagine his terror when on entering he sees the King as red as a turkey cock, and all his ministers attending him standing sword in hand. He thought this time it was all up with him. Happily, he remembered that there was still one remaining friend, and he cried with dying accents:

'Wasp's-nest, Wasp's-nest, make a sally, Or Drakestail nevermore may rally.'

Hereupon the scene changes.

'Bs, bs, bayonet them! 'The brave Wasp's-nest rushes out with all his wasps. They threw themselves on the infuriated King and his ministers, and stung them so fiercely in the face that they lost their heads, and not knowing where to hide themselves they all jumped pell-mell from the window and broke their necks on the pavement.

illustration by Lancelot Speed

Behold Drakestail much astonished, all alone in the big saloon and master of the field. He could not get over it.

Nevertheless, he remembered shortly what he had come for to the palace, and improving the occasion, he set to work to hunt for his dear money. But in vain he rummaged in all the drawers; he found nothing; all had been spent.

And ferreting thus from room to room he came at last to the one with the throne in it, and feeling fatigued, he sat himself down on it to think over his adventure. In the meanwhile the people had found their King and his ministers with their feet in the air on the pavement, and they had gone into the palace to know how it had occurred. On entering the throne-room, when the crowd saw that there was already someone on the royal seat, they broke out in cries of surprise and joy: 'The King is dead, long live the King! Heaven has sent us down this thing.'

Drakestail, who was no longer surprised at anything, received the acclamations of the people as if he had never done anything else all his life.

A few of them certainly murmured that a Drakestail would make a fine King; those who knew him replied that a knowing Drakestail was a more worthy King than a spendthrift like him who was lying on the pavement. In short, they ran and took the crown off the head of the deceased, and placed it on that of Drakestail, whom it fitted like wax.

Thus he became King.

'And now,' said he after the ceremony, 'ladies and gentlemen, let's go to supper. I am so hungry!'

Cats and Women (Africa)

The type of African story I will be talking about today is "why cats live with women." The key feature of this story is a chain tale progression where the cat leaves one companion after another, always seeking someone stronger until finally the cat discovers that the woman is strongest of all. If you use ATU indexes, ATU 2031 is a "stronger and strongest" type of pattern, but this story is surely not the same type; instead, it is using the same type of chain device to tell a different story.

At the bottom of this blog post you will find a public domain version of this story: Paka the Cat, in Black Tales for White Children by C.H. Stigand and Nancy Stigand (1914). Online at the Internet Archive. This version is from a Swahili storyteller; Paka is the name for Cat in Swahili.

Other versions: So far, I have found one other published version of this tale type.
Why Cats Live with Women, in When the Stones Were Soft; East African Fireside Tales by Eleanor Heady (1968). Online at the Internet Archive (pending court injunction).This version starts with Paka the cat; he befriends Sungura the rabbit (hare), and then Mbweha the jackal, then Fisi the hyena, then Duma the cheetah, then Man, and then Woman. In this story, there are not two wives; instead, the woman is angry at the man because he came home late and the dinner she was cooking was ruined because he was late.

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Paka the Cat
(a Swahili story from eastern Africa)

illustration by John Hargrave

This is the story of Paka the cat. 

If there are three or four men walking along and only one woman, the cat will turn aside from the men and follow the woman. Now the reason for this is the story I am telling you. 

In the beginning Paka one day sat in the bush until she felt the pain of hunger. So she came down to the shore, and there she met a serval, who was hunting the crabs of the shore. So Paka went up to the serval and said, "Good morning." 

And the serval said, "Who are you?" 

"It is I— Paka." 

"What do you want?" 

"I want to follow you about and so get food." 

So the serval said, "Very good then. Here, eat these crabs." 

So Paka ate of the crabs, and she followed the serval many days. Till one day there came a leopard and fought with the serval and killed him.

illustration by John Hargrave

So Paka thought in her heart, "Now, this one was not a manly one; he who is the man is the leopard." 

So Paka went up to the leopard and saluted him, "Good morning." 

So the leopard said, "And who are you?" 

"It is I— Paka." 

"What do you want?" 

"I want to follow you about and get food." 

So the leopard said, "Very good. Here, eat of this serval." 

So Paka followed the leopard many days and many weeks. Till one day came a lion, and he fell on the leopard and killed him.

So Paka thought in her heart, "Now, this one also was not a manly one: he who is the man is the lion." 

So she went to the lion and said, "Good morning." 

And the lion said, "Who are you?" 

"It is I— Paka." 

"What do you want?" 

So Paka said, "I want to follow you about that you may give me food." 

So the lion said, "Then eat of this leopard." 

So Paka ate of the leopard, and she followed the lion for many weeks and many months, till one day there came an elephant. And the elephant came and struck the lion with his trunk, and the lion died. 

So Paka said in her heart, "Now, this one, too, was not a manly one: he who is the man is the elephant." 

So Paka went and greeted the elephant, "Good morning." 

The elephant said, "And who are you?" '

'It is I— Paka!" 

"What do you want?" 

"I want to follow you about, that you may give me food."

So the elephant said, "Then eat of this lion." 

So Paka ate of the lion, and she followed the elephant for many months and many days. Till one day came a man, and that son of Adam came and he took his matchlock and fired. And he hit the elephant, and the elephant ran away. After running a long way he fell down, and that son of Adam came and he fired again and again, until the elephant was finished and he died. 

Now Paka said, "Behold, he also was not a manly one: he who is the man is the son of Adam." 

So Paka went up and saluted him, saying, "Good morning." 

And the man said, "Who are you?" 

"It is I— Paka." 

"What do you want?" 

"I want to follow you about, that you may give me food."

So the man said, "Then eat of the elephant." 

So Paka stayed with the man and ate of the elephant, while he was cutting out the tusks. When the man had finished cutting out the tusks, he wended his way home and came to his village. 

Now that man had two wives, and the one he loved and the other he loved not. So he came first to the house of her whom he loved not, that he might stay a short time and go to the house of her whom he loved. So he came there and greeted the wife whom he loved not, and straightway went on to the house of her whom he loved. 

When he had come there he said to her, "Oh, my wife whom I love, I have done this on purpose. I came first to the house of the other one, that I might come straightway to you whom I love, and remain with you a long time."

Now the woman was angry, in that he had gone first to the house of the other, and she said to him, "What you say is false!" 

So she came up to him and struck him — pah! 

That man did not do anything; he turned round and left the hut. 

Then thought Paka, "Now, even this one is not the manly one. Why does he go away? He who is the man is the woman." 

So she went up to the woman and said to her, "Good morning." 

The woman said, "And who are you?" 

"It is I— Paka." 

"What do you want?" 

"I want to follow you about, that you may give me food." 

So the woman said to her, "Very good. Sit here in my house." 

Now this is the story of Paka the cat, which comes from long ago, and this is the reason why a cat will leave a man and follow a woman.