Pärtel and I agreed to meet under the whisking-trees, which we would find by following our mothers and sisters.
It wasn’t difficult. Evidently it didn’t occur to Mother that I might suspect something, and I played my part well. I ate my fill properly in the evening as always, and scrambled to my sleeping place. Salme did the same, and a little while later Mother also got under her big deerskin, where all three of us had snuggled down in my childhood.
For a while it was silent and dark; although at first I’d been afraid that I wouldn’t hold out and would sleep through it, I was no longer afraid of that. I was as excited and alert as a swallow, and my only concern was to stay in one position, when actually I wanted to toss and scratch all over all the time. It’s terrible how the urge to scratch takes over your mind. But I forced myself to stay still, until at last I heard Mother getting up from her position and tugging at Salme.
“Let’s go now!” she whispered.
They sneaked quietly out the door. I lay a few moments more in the same position, in case they might have forgotten something and come back. But they didn’t, so I leapt out of bed and followed them.
I saw them walking in front of me and I crawled on the damp grass like my friend Ints, trying to make as little noise as possible. Mother and Salme didn’t notice anything. After a little while they met one of Salme’s friends, who was also on her way with her mother to the moonlit sauna, and the four of them continued on their way. I stayed at their heels.
Finally we arrived at a small clearing. This was undoubtedly their destination, because there I saw other women who were already taking off their clothes and starting to climb the trees, an oak switch between their teeth. There was a rustling in the bushes somewhere and Pärtel crawled up beside me.
“Mine is already up the tree!” he whispered and pointed with a finger toward a tall spruce tree, at the top of which sat his naked mother, her white body shining in the moonlight, slowly and with visible pleasure whisking herself.
It was undoubtedly a beautiful, magical scene, but I was much more interested in Salme’s friends than in Pärtel’s mother. I let my gaze rove around, and saw the women climbing ever higher up the tree trunks against the night sky, until they found a suitable branch and settled on it, bathed in the bright moonlight, stroking their naked bodies with an oak switch, as if the moon’s golden glow were spread all over them. It was an exciting scene, and Pärtel and I stared at the naked girls in fascination. We also saw Hiie, sitting beside her mother and swishing the little branch on her bony legs, but she was obviously not our favorite; she was scrawny, with the body of a child. One of Salme’s friends, on the other hand, had breasts like wasp’s nests! We both gulped when we saw her starting to beat herself as her tits bounced merrily up and down.
You can only imagine what a scene would have been offered by the women whisking in the moonlight centuries ago, when the forest was still full of people. The branches must have sagged under the weight of all the women. Now there were only a few whiskers, scarcely a score, including a few old women who offered no pleasure to the eyes. But they were all whisking heartily, and from the rhythm of the fall of the switches emerged a fine moonlight dust, which glowed like a living fire.
“Beautiful!” sighed Pärtel, ogling one woman who had put down her whisk for a moment and stretched out with great pleasure, thus heaving her powerful bosom farther out.
We heard an enthusiastic sigh come from someone nearby, and we flinched in fear. Who else could be lurking here? We turned rapidly around and quite near us saw a large bear, who was watching the whiskers, his head cocked, gnawing his long claws with great pleasure.
“What are you doing here?” I asked angrily, because the man within me was awakening, and no man will tolerate bears looking at women.
“I’m watching,” replied the bear. “Oh, they’re so sweet!”
“Don’t she-bears go switch-whisking?” I asked. “Why don’t you peep at them?”
“No, they don’t,” sighed the bear, who of course didn’t understand that I was making fun of him. Bears never understand that; they are terribly simpleminded and gullible. “She-bears are not so pretty anyway. They wear a thick coat, and you can’t take it off. But these ones here are all so beautiful and sweet! As if they’d been flayed!”
“Go flay yourself!” I snorted angrily. “Go on, scram! Or go flay some goat; then it will be beautiful and sweet too!”
“I’ve tried that, and it’s not the same,” sighed the bear, who, like all bears, was not capable of taking offense. But he did toddle off a little way, raising his snout toward the treetops.
We must have been whispering too loudly with the bear, and my sister, Salme, came down from the treetop. I suddenly heard my mother’s voice ask, “Where are you going?” and I turned around. To my astonishment I saw Salme standing naked under the tree, not far away from us.
“I heard some noise,” said Salme, with a suspicious expression. “I think there’s someone here.”
She peered between the trees, and Pärtel and I pressed ourselves as deep into the moss as we could. We couldn’t crawl out anymore; Salme would have spotted us immediately. But staying put was not without dangers either. Thanks to the full moon, it was very light in the forest. Salme would only have to go forward a few steps and she would discover us straight away, and right now she was about to take those steps.
I felt a cold sweat in the back of my neck, for I couldn’t even guess what punishment might await little boys who invade a secret whisking party. The women would certainly be horribly angry that we had spied on them. My mother would of course hardly be likely to do me much harm, but I would feel so ashamed.
We wanted to dig into the ground like moles, but humans have sadly not been given that gift, and not even Snakish would help here.
Salme stepped forward two paces, and would certainly have found us the next moment, when suddenly a delicate little voice called, “Salme!”
It would have been reasonable for Salme to scream now, and even run for help. But she did nothing of the sort. Instead she muttered with a kind of shameful satisfaction: “It’s you, Mõmmi! What are you doing here — you’re not supposed to be here.”
Our ursine acquaintance came out of the bushes.
“Salme, you’re so pretty!” he sighed. “I was sitting here and I didn’t get a look from you. There are many beautiful women up there in the trees, but you’re the nicest.”
“Mõmmi, it’s not decent to watch in secret like that!” said Salme, shielding her naked body with her hands. She wasn’t angry in the slightest. I imagined how differently she would have spoken to me and Pärtel. It was actually insulting: she would have berated her own brother mercilessly for peeping at her and her peers, but with this bear she spoke in a tender and kind voice, as if he were her dearest friend. The bear came right up to Salme and licked her bare feet.
“Don’t do that; Mother is up there,” whispered Salme. “I have to climb back up too. See you some other time.”
“I’ll stay here under the tree until morning,” murmured the bear. “Let me admire your beauty!”
“You silly thing!” said Salme sweetly and stroked the bear’s head. Then she slipped back to her own tree and climbed up.
“Who was there?” asked Mother.