Kids in Iceland have been looking forward to December 12; this is the night the first of the Yule Lads arrives. They’re 13 pranksters — the sons of the giants Gryla and Leppaludi, who live in the mountains in a cave. You definitely want to stay away from Gryla and Leppaludi. Each of the 13 Yule Lads arrives on a subsequent night, and on their first night in town each one leaves gifts in the shoes the children leave on windowsills. But by some undefined process they seem to know which children are well-behaved and which aren’t, and if you’re not on the good list, your gift is a potato. In your shoe.
Each Yule Lad stays around for 13 days, departing in the same order they arrived. They each leave gifts when they arrive, but then play pranks for the rest of their stay. Each one specializes in a different kind of mischief. The one that arrives tonight is Sheep-Cote Clod. As his name implies, he harasses flocks of sheep. Next comes Gully Gawk, who hides in gullies and sneaks into barns to steal milk. The next four play pranks that sound fairly helpful. Stubby, who’s quite short, steals pans and licks them clean. Spoon Licker does the same thing with spoons, but he’s very thin because there’s just not that much nutrition in used spoons. Pot Scraper has it better; if there are any leftovers in the house, he snitches them. Bowl Licker depends on a particular type of dish used in Iceland; it’s an “askur” that’s similar to a plate or bowl with a lid. He hides under beds, and if your bedtime snack was in an askur, and you put it down, he grabs it. Door Slammer isn’t interested in food; he just waits until everybody’s asleep, then slams doors to wake them up. Skyr Gobbler returns to food-related pranks. He steals and eats skyr, which is Icelandic yogurt. Sausage Swiper hides up in the rafters, where he can catch the scent of anyone cooking sausages, and (obviously) swipes them. Window Peeper is a generalist; he snoops around looking through windows for anything he can steal. Then Doorway Sniffer arrives; he has a very large nose that he uses to locate and take “leaf bread” — round, decorated wafers. Meat Hook has an unsophisticated prank; he’s got a hook, and he uses it to steal meat (whether he eats it is unclear). Candle Stealer is the last to arrive, on Christmas Eve. He steals candles — which he used to eat, because candles used to be made of tallow, which is (technically) edible. You can’t eat modern candles, but he steals them anyway.
The Yule Lads aren’t the only ones you have to watch out for in Iceland this time of year. There’s also the Yule Cat, a very large and vicious black cat that lives in Gryla and Leppaludi’s cave, but comes down from the mountains around Christmas season. If you’re out in the countryside and you didn’t get some new clothes to wear before Christmas Eve, the Yule Cat eats you. And in some parts of Iceland, there are stories about two Yule Girls who arrive not from the mountains but from the sea. They’re pranksters too; they steal melted fat and stuff it into socks, because…um, look, they pour melted fat into socks, okay? We’re not here to question their motives.
Santa Claus arrives on Christmas Eve in Iceland just like he does in other parts of the world, and he doesn’t seem to have much connection to the Yule Lads, the Yule Girls, or the Yule Cat. Although if you watch the Netflix movie Christmas Chronicles 2, supposedly there’s a Yule Cat named Jola who gets chased by Santa. Jola had injured Dasher, you see, and then attacks someone named Jack, who fends him off with an explosive gingerbread cookie, which is what you’d naturally do when faced with a Yule Cat. Dasher recovers, and saves the day by tackling Jola. I’m sure I’m leaving out some subtle plot points and significant details; you’ll have to watch the film yourself to properly grasp its significance.
One of the issues faced by historic Icelanders trying to cope with all these mountain pranksters and a dangerous feline was lack of communication. After all, if the Yule Cat is busy attacking some poor badly-attired hiker outside Mosfellsbaer, then you’re probably safe walking to Strandabyggo even if you didn’t get your new clothes yet — if you know where the attack is occuring. It was December 12, 1901 that Guglielmo Marconi demonstrated his solution: he received the first transatlantic radio signal. It was the letter “S”. The rest of the signal, if there was any, wasn’t recorded for some reason. It might well have been the beginning of some sort of warning about Sheep Cote Clod’s impending arrival. Or, given that it was radio, a new and mysterious invisible signal, maybe it veered inexplicably through space-time and was an omen that in just 14 years, a baby would be born to the Sinatra family in Hoboken, New Jersey in the US, and would grow up to be an international star.
It almost certainly wasn’t any kind of premonition about December 12 being the birthday of Ted Kennedy, though, because how are you going to connect that with the letter “S”? Oh, by the way, we’re not talking about THAT Ted Kennedy. Marconi received his transmission in Newfoundland, Canada, where Ted Kennedy the hockey player was born. He was captain of the Toronto Maple Leafs, and still considered the best player in team history. Whether the Leafs used to leave their skates on windowsills starting on the evening of December 12 has been the subject of much speculation, but there’s no definitive answer. Possibly some prankster swiped the evidence.
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