Myth and folktales

25
paid attention at least to the rooster’s final words. But they could not see any 
sense in them. The rooster warned them against the lake, but they could not 
understand why since there was no lake in the valley. There were only the seven 
rivers, welling forth from the egg and peacefully flowing in their old river beds. 
People concluded that there was surely a dangerous lake beyond the mountain 
range. Every day they posted a lookout on the top of the mountains. But there 
was no peril, and every day the man went to his lookout in vain. 
The people relaxed. Their haughtiness grew stronger and stronger. Grandmas 
made brooms from wheat stalks, and men were so lazy that they no longer 
wanted to climb trees to pick bread. They preferred to set a tree on fire, and 
when it fell on the ground they could pick the bread growing on its branches 
effortlessly. Once full, they would lie by the rivers, gossip, and cause mischief. 
One of them stared at the water, nodded, and blurted, “Hey, fellows, isn’t it 
weird? I would really like to know why there is precisely so much water, and 
not more or less. “That,” answered another one, “was another one of rooster’s 
whims. What a shame that we still obey it, searching for the lake that never 
was and never will be. If it was up to me, the sentinel would be posted there 
today for the last time. As far as rivers are concerned, I think it would be 
better if there was more water.” 
His neighbour agreed with the proposal yet felt that there was an abundance 
of water, even too much. A pot-bellied man added that in fact, both were 
right. It would be best to break the egg and to have precisely as much water 
as was needed. There was really no need for the lookout. As soon as the word 
spread, a cry arose through the valley. Everybody stormed to the egg to break 
it. All of them wanted the sentinel to set off to his post for the very last time so 
that the following day, this shameful watch could be terminated. The people 
surrounded the egg, and the pot-bellied man picked up a stone and rapped on 
the egg. With a mighty thunder, the egg broke. Water gushed from it in such 
quantity that soon the entire human race perished. Filled with water, Paradise 
turned into a large lake. This was what the rooster warned them against, but 
in vain because the depraved people did not heed its warning. The flood rose to 
the highest mountain tops, and the sentinel was the only surviving member of 
the human race. As he beheld the rising waters, he started to flee. His destiny 
will be recounted in the following story.
11
What followed is a subject of another story, also published by Trdina in Neven 
in 1858 (Trdina 1858, 153–156). He added a note saying that while there were many 
tales of Kurent in Kranjska (Carniola) he had heard this particular one in Mengeš, 
11 
Trdina 1858: 61–62; Trdina 1952: 162–164; Kelemina 1930, no. 207. 

---

26
where Kurent is called the “holy Korant” and considered a saint. Trdina claimed that 
Kurent very likely represented to the Old Slavs the same kind of god as Bacchus, god 
of wine and joy, was to the Romans.
The tale of kurent
All people died in the flood with the exception of one, and he was from 
Kranjska. He fled higher and higher, but finally the water covered the moun-
tain as well. The poor soul saw how the fir trees and the oaks were covered 
by water, and the only thing that remained dry was a grapevine. He ran to 
it and gripped it tightly, although not in hope but in utter terror. How could 
the grapevine, so thin and weak, help him? Kurent saw the man, for he used 
the grapevine as a stick whenever he was wandering around the world. He 
was glad to see that the man sought help from him. To tell the truth, Kurent 
was a jester but he also had a mild temperament. He was willing to rescue 
anybody who was in trouble. Upon hearing the man’s wails, Kurent smoothed 
his grapevine stick, extending it higher and higher, until it reached beyond the 
clouds. After nine years, the waters receded and the land dried once again.
12
 
The man saved himself by hanging on the grapevine and living on its grapes 
and wine. When everything was dry again, he climbed down, highly praising Kurent 
the rescuer. Yet this was not to Kurent’s liking. “It was the grapevine that rescued 
you,” he said to the man. “Praise the grapevine instead. Make a contract with it and 
swear by yourself and by your descendants that you will celebrate it and love its wine 
more than any food or drink.” The grateful man immediately swore by himself and 
by his descendants. To this day, his grandchildren have kept his faith, as the story 
goes, and love wine more than anything else, merrily remembering Kurent, their 
old benefactor.
An interesting connection between folktales about the end of a civilization and 
God’s rooster can also be found in a tale from Gailtail (Rož) in Kärnten, Austria 
(Eng. Carinthia; Slo. Koroška). Recorded by Josip Šašel, the tale speaks about the 
Tower of Babel. People built the Tower of Babel so high that they could hear God’s 
rooster from the top. When God asked them who their master was, they pointed at 
each other instead of replying that God was their master. In order to punish them, 
God confounded their speech and they could not continue with the construction 
(Šašel 1936–1937, 25, No. 27).
Vinko Stubelj, one of Trdina’s students from the high school in Rijeka, also wrote 
down the story about the Flood and Kurent in the continuation of his manuscript 
records on the creation of the world and mankind, although rather more briefly.
12 
Trdina 1858: 153-156.

---