Backwood Philosopher (2009) - full transcript
BACKWOOD PHILOSOPHER
Konsta Pylkkonen!
A hawk was flying over the lake.
Had its nails like this.
It holds them so when it's about
to grab a hare or a mole.
But look at this foot.
What is the purpose of these nails?
I'm not a hawk or a woodpecker
or a squirrel.
Let's go see if your folks
have the coffee ready.
The Lord shall reward
a mother's work
You damned snothead!
Don't spit on my floors.
Some prince you are.
Slobbering on the floor.
Get some paper and wipe it off.
Easy now, Iita.
There are worse things in
the world, if you have to fret.
Shut your mouth!
Stop wising off.
Don't you understand
you'll give my boys consumption.
Hear, hear, Iita.
Don't you yap at me.
I've never had consumption
and I never will.
I can saw up a ten-inch log
without losing my breath.
I'm still a frisk man so...
Stop so-soing.
Just wipe the spit off.
I sure won't clean it!
I work like a dog washing your
filthy clothes and getting you grub.
And Selmi won't hear a word
spoken against his hero.
But drown the walls in spit
if you like.
I'll become a hobo, take the boys
and never come back.
You have that paper somewhere?
You should know, lying on newspapers
all day long and dishing out wisdoms.
You're not so smart as you think.
Why did she have to bring Selmi
into this, too?
Poor Selmi suffered second hand,
and for no damned reason.
Maybe I shouldn't have spat that spit-
but that cockroach happened
be marching there.
What does she know?
Calling me stupid.
Forgive me, Iita,
and let's make peace.
I'll buy you a package of real
coffee from the commissary store.
Or two if the foreman lets me
have an advance.
I bring you fish and hares and birds.
Carry water and chop you wood.
But the weight of bigger questions-
sometimes makes me
forget outward things.
I'm not so bad as everybody thinks.
Your mother blamed your father
second hand this morning.
Started shouting at him for
no good reason.
What are second hands?
Who knows. Never seen'em.
The Indians may have them,
or other wild folks.
Don't ask useless questions, son.
Start rowing.
Did you know, Nikke, that a firefox
keeps a den on that other shore?
Can you guess what a firefox is?
I couldn't.
Listen carefully.
It's a fox that has a red nose
and pink eyes.
The firefox can't see in the dark.
And since it goes hunting at night-
you'd think it'd run headlong
into trees and rocks.
But it doesn't-
because its fur glows in the dark
like a carbide lamp.
In the dead of night the fur
shows the fox the way.
That's where the firefox
gets its name.
Is the firefox there on the shore?
Is it angry?
Not angry. Shy's more like it.
I'm the only one in these
woods that's ever seen it.
Once I peeked into its den,
and it was bright as day there.
It had some fine-looking
cubs there too.
They glowed so sweetly.
And hear this, son-
they were eating a black swan,
black as soot.
Where did they get a black swan?
From the gray man of the woods
who lives in a hollow pine snag.
No one's ever seen him,
but there's no doubt he exists.
Or there'd be no explaining the
wonders of the heartland.
You understand?
Here's a willow flute for you.
Play it and sorrow won't
ever dwell in you.
By the way. It's a saying.
'Second hand'.
So I've read.
Look at that, Nikke.
Wonder what's on its mind?
Must be chasing something.
The way it wriggles,
could be either a boy or a girl.
Think they send these critters
here from Headquarters to do-
smaller measuring tasks
when humans are too busy?
But how is development served by
a worm scampering in the woods?
Should we just forget about all this?
No, if we do the worm justice.
For the worm is the favorite food
of many a winged creature.
And this is precisely what
we have to consider-
or we can't reach the basic truth.
Usually even politicos don't
consider things enough-
even though there are a million
plus wisdoms in the world.
There should be a list of the pecking
order between wisdoms.
That would make many a nation's
government a better place.
Do you know what a government is?
-No.
Why should you? Enjoy while
you still don't have to think.
You can just loll in
the bliss of childhood.
Damned, jackass!
Don't go eating a man's shirt!
Cretin! Haven't got enough
shirts to serve as food.
Go eat hay from the bog
and not someone's shirt.
People don't give their beasts enough
salts in the summer.
They have to eat shirts.
Ah, you came to count the logs.
G'morning.
-Morning.
Think I could get a little advance?
Since you got the count.
I need to buy a new shirt and some
such stuff from the commissary store.
What a stupid cow that was.
Witless creature of nature.
Four packs of pipe tobacco, please.
Why were those men laughing?
-They're a bunch of crap mongers.
Sticking their filthy snouts
into other people's business.
Don't you ever become like that.
Like what?
-Average.
Konsta Pylkkonen?
-Yes.
Letter from Moses Pessi.
Konsta, you loggerhog. Here.
Writing to tell you that there's
some city gents here in Lentua.
Come, they want a dayworker -
and will pay 500 a day
for needless work.
I've no time from haymaking.
Come and take their money.
They're studying nature and hay from
swamps and other animals.
They have the President's permission
to shoot birds off season-
and they need a dayworker
to shoot the birds.
I have some fine moonshine.
But don't tell nobody.
Moses Pessi. Here.
Learned wizards. Schoolmen.
How I've longed to meet real scholars.
Why did he call me loggerhog?!
Loggerhog...
-Don't you laugh.
He's a ninny, Moses.
Why am I lounging here
on the ice of this big lake?
No food, no skis.
No socks on my feet.
So those are second hands?
Handy, indeed.
Hardworking folks around here,
they even work while they ski.
Wake up.
Come and eat.
Why are you lying there so late?
Rise and shine.
Are you ill?
Is it raining? Raining hard?
-And wet.
Conquest of the Universe
Zoology
I'm taking the day off
since it's raining.
I'm going up to the attic to read
and think about big questions.
I'll have my afternoon
coffee at the usual time.
You can make it stronger
than last Sunday.
Can I come with you, Konsta?
-If you like.
Schoolmaster, numskull.
Thinks he's so smart.
Borneo, Borneo, Borneo.
Why did the surveyors name it that?
Or it could be a good name.
Borneo.
But tomorrow I'm off to Lentua.
You could come and see
me off part of the way.
What will you do in Lentua?
-Thinking calls.
Big thoughts are moping in my head
and demanding to get out.
There on the open lake there's
room for blue thoughts.
Blue ones are the best.
Or the color of the sky in a
big freeze, not yellow or red.
Or like moonshine in a brown flask
with an old cognac bottle cork.
Rarely do I manage to catch
such thoughts.
See, it's my lot in life to think
through almost everything.
And a life like that isn't all joy.
No more than any other life.
Except if you're making moonshine,
which clearly differs from most life.
Think that snag is hollow?
Should I finally do it?
Do I dare?
But there's no one here to see.
Now this is a large cavity.
Here they hold fort: the woodpeckers-
the titmice, the weasels,
the owls, the whatnots.
That sure is some tower.
I'd feel at home here,
if I were a woodpecker.
Like it was made to order.
Nature sure is uncanny.
I'll head off from here to Lentua,
and you'll turn back home.
Can you find the way?
-Yes.
I'll solve the mystery of fire
and tell you when I get back.
See if you can spot a firefox
while you're at it.
I will.
And then we'll think things clear.
I'll teach you to think, too.
I already can, a little.
-A little.
Off you go.
Hey, Moses.
-Is it Konsta Pylkkonen?
Back to do some rowing?
Needed a peaceful place
to think my blue thoughts.
Well, here you'll find all the
quiet you need to think in blue.
Who are those men in the lake?
What part of nature are they studying?
And why did you call me
loggerhog in your letter?
Have they been here long?
I like the sound of loggerhog.
Those men on the island are real
gents. Docents or something.
Or professors at least.
They showed up here a week ago
and are staying on the island.
They tried to hire me,
but I'm in the middle of haymaking.
They want someone who knows
his birds and beasts.
I told them Konsta Pylkkonen
was a fine woodsman.
Well, I do know my animals
as well as the next man.
I said so, and sent you that letter.
I told them you'd be here
in a couple of days.
How did you know?
-I guessed.
I can guess my own comings
and goings myself!
Are they real scholars? Wisemen?
They're as wise as they get.
And they have machines
and star binoculars-
and this scope something,
all kinds of gadgets.
Star binoculars.
-Yes.
Those men can't be stupid.
Maybe Masters or Doctors even?
And they have a permit from the
President to shoot birds off season.
But listen, Konsta...
The thing is, in spite of our
small differences-
we'll all meet in the graveyard
in the end.
That's one big family gathering
no human can avoid.
It was Adam and Eve's fault
for going apple thieving.
Why did they have to dip into that
tree of good and bad knowledge?
It's no place to go.
But Adam went,
like a jittery squirrel.
He passed on to his sons
the original sin-
which has ever since grown,
thanks to his offspring.
Everything went up a hawk's ass
when he dangled in that tree.
But hey, there are some gents
fishing by the rapids.
Assistants to those schoolmen
or something.
Assistants to the schoolmen?
I should go measure their wisdom
and amount of information-
whether it's store-grade timber
or rotten wood.
Store-grade timber...
Salmon biting greedy?
It is, even in this sunny weather.
But do you really need all
those rods and poles?
I used to dump cartloads of salmon
into the bushes over there-
using just small fry for bait.
I didn't need all those widgets.
You can't catch'em with those.
If you do, they're underage or faulty.
But young that you are
you have time to be stupid.
Stop rambling, Moses.
Go home, if you can't behave.
No need to offend people.
You're from around here?
We're from Helsinki. Brought supplies
to those scholars on the island.
They are waiting eagerly
for their dayworker.
Either of you happen to know
someone called Pylkkonen?
Never heard.
That's me.
I agreed to serve as their guide
in this neck of woods.
Excellent. They were asking.
Think you could stop by there
tonight already?
Might you be docents?
-Just students. At the university.
University?
Mind if I ask you a few things?
-Not at all.
Nice that you're interested.
Second hands.
Might you know whether wild folks
in the south have more hands-
than us northerners?
Do the second hands go under the arm?
The professors ever mention?
Second hands. Haven't heard.
Could be a saying?
-People will say anything.
Can you see to the moon with
those university telescopes?
Are there dwellings there?
What kind?
Have they already flown a rocket
to the moon, those outlanders?
Or is it a state secret?
Could cause a diplomatic crisis.
Those men on the island,
are they Doctors already?
Or do they steel need to dissertate?
-They're just Masters or Licentiates.
Licentiates? Are they very wise,
these licentiates?
What is their amount of information?
Big?
They are very learned men.
-Yes, wisemen.
What about the fat-tailed sheep?
Is the fat under the tail
or on top of it?
And if it's a huge lump-
does the sheep need
a cart to carry it?
You know?
Looks like a good year
for blueberries.
Unless Jack takes them.
-Jack who?
Jack Frost.
-Jack Frost...
Cute the way you laugh.
Better than most.
You can't talk with these ninnies.
They just listen with their
eyes bulging like cattle.
But with those licentiates
I'll get to measure wisdom.
I wonder what type their wisdom is?
Theoretic or the long-range type?
Are they top of the line wise?
If the universe was even a tad bit
bigger than now-
it would be too big.
But nature is purposeful.
I reckon space is built precisely so-
that it can fit in
everything there is.
There's room for everyone-
and even a greedy man can
grope as much of it as he can.
When I was young and reckless,
I once measured the whole universe.
I stared angrily at the universe-
and first let my eye climb up
a regular stretch.
Then I imagined a black speck
as a fixed point in the sky-
and sent my eye on a climb again.
And then another, and so on...
I kept at it for four hours.
I drew a mark on a tobacco box
for every stretch I traveled.
I don't know how far I'd got,
when my eyes were hit hard.
I knew it was the roof
of the universe-
and I decided I should climb on it.
And when I was standing there
next to the chimney:
What do you know?
Another universe began.
That made a small man feel frail.
I was scared that space was
packed full of moons and stars-
each with their own peculiar dwellers.
I decided to build walls and a
roof for the universe.
I spent my days logging
and nights building the walls.
It started to wear me out.
So I took sleeping guys to help me,
borrowed them from their sleep.
Selmi was wriggling by that wall
like a waxwing.
And Moses and Arttu, too.
I growled at them when they
tried to stop for a smoke.
But we got it done,
and put up pretty wallpaper-
with the sun and the moon
and stars added on.
It felt safe and sound to have
the sky the way it was back home.
Poor buggers thought they were
sleeping while I kept them at work.
No salmon will swim to that line.
He'll make a curious dayworker
for those scientists-
if he's as talkative when he's sober.
If I could live in the skin of
a scholar for just a year.
I could read the world's wisest
books and practice my brain.
Walking the cobblestones
with a book under the arm.
I'd spend all my time at the museum
of animals and in the observatory.
Studying wise thoughts.
Generally everybody has their own
wisdom, but it can be borrowed.
Even a stupid man can be wise
in his own way.
The stupid man doesn't have
the same problem as the wise man-
whose brain has suffered
many an infection.
In some ways there's too much
wisdom in the world.
It builds up and bloats
until your head turns blue.
There's long-range wisdom,
which I have a fair amount of.
It has only be given to a chosen few,
but there're two faults in it.
Things don't happen or they
happen altogether differently.
If you keep this in mind, the shores
of the world are traveled lightly.
Then there's theoretic wisdom-
which you see in newspapers
or declarations of sorts.
It's like an old shotgun
with a broken lock.
It can blow up in your face.
But the cutest type of wisdom
is after-wisdom.
Now there man is at his wisest.
But when push comes to shove-
man has as much authority
in the universe as an ant.
Now the mysteries of grass
will surely be solved.
What's that gadget. A microscope?
Would they let me take a peek too?
This man is no fraud.
Carex pilulifera.
-What did he say?
Deschampsia flexuosa, sterile stem.
He's a wizard, of the best kind.
Moses sure did right by
writing me that letter.
Called me a loggerhog, that cur!
Thinks writing's the same as
spilling ink on paper.
But that man's a witch, a wizard.
Evening.
-Evening.
Fish biting?
-Just a nibble.
Plenty of fish in this lake.
Just two nets have kept us in supply.
Yep. Fish do swim in water.
But the biggest salmon
have disappeared.
Probably scared off by the log rafts.
Moses Pessi wrote me that you
needed a dayworker.
So I came asking.
Your fire was so well hidden,
I almost couldn't find you.
You're Pylkkonen!
We've been expecting you.
I'm Ojasto, Master of Science.
My colleague, Putte Kronberg
is asleep in the tent.
Putte! Putte, wake up!
Can you shoot well? Hunt?
Fish? Do you know birds well?
I can do all that.
We also need you to look after the
camp and cook and make coffee-
while Kronberg and I are at work.
And you can shoot birds for
our research?
Sure can.
Pylkkonen is here, the dayworker.
Kronberg.
Besides researching plants we
are also studying parasites in birds.
I have a list on the birds you need
to shoot, and how many.
We have permission from the state
to shoot birds off season.
And here's the weapon.
Small caliber, so the bullets
don't break the birds' bones.
You have to shoot at very close range.
-Now that is small.
Would it even kill an egg?
How much do you pay per day?
-Would 500 marks do?
That's a lot of money. I get ten
marks less a day as a logger.
Not worth wasting my time here
for that.
As a logger I make
well over a thousand.
5 50.
You drive a hard bargain.
We're writing a thesis and
paying the expenses ourselves.
Us scientists don't earn much.
The state doesn't give you
decent pay for this work?
It's a scamp, the state.
No sense of judgment.
Doesn't even like to pay me,
and the forests are a killer.
It loves to collect taxes though,
same as the county.
Damn them.
I could knock a forty off.
I have a nice little salmon
in the boat. Buy it for pickling.
Come and see.
-Alright.
I'll write you a list for tomorrow.
How much do you want for it?
Can't sell for less than 300 a kilo.
-Expensive treat.
What does it weigh?
Four kilos.
-Two and a half, tops.
If you pick up a 3-kilo salmon-
and hold this one in the other hand,
you'll feel it's a kilo heavier.
That's not how it's done.
Three kilos, one hundred grams.
Could the scales be that precise?
Buy it and send it home to the missus.
How much would you
want for the scales?
We'll pay you 7 00 for the fish
and you can keep the scales-
if you'll help to carry our things
to the Kontiomoki station.
It's a deal.
There's a storm brewing.
We'll skip work tomorrow.
But here are your tasks for
the next day.
Shooting birds and fetching food.
Potatoes and milk from
the farmhouse over there.
And butter and onions, too.
You can make a fish soup.
The nets are out by that rock.
Fire. There's a mysterious substance.
Strange beast.
You don't see it unless you light it.
Where does it stay in the meantime?
It hides and hides.
But if Moses, or I-
should light a match...
Here! A big flame.
Where did it come from?
It didn't spring out of the oven,
that's too far away.
Can someone tell?
Where did it come from?
Well, I never thought of that.
I've studied fire my own fair share.
See, the air is full of fire germs,
thousands of them.
And when I strike a match,
poison splashes on the match wood.
Being that it's aspen
it becomes infected.
The fire germ attacks
the infected aspen.
And oopsy daisy!
-Oopsy daisy!
Could there be a greedier critter
than fire? It never thanks you.
And it craps ash.
It eats the poor man's house
and a logger's cabin.
It feeds on wood.
Pitchy pine is its favorite.
And if you feed it gunpowder,
it explodes of happiness.
Or dynamite.
-Or lamp oil.
Atoms it has for dessert.
But stone and asbestos
get stuck in its throat.
Tin melts and water boils
but doesn't burn.
Nor does snow.
-Nor Lentua.
But it thrives in swamps.
-Plenty of proof of that.
In the summer of '25, the Heini bog
smoldered for two weeks straight.
And old Taavetti guarded it.
Kuoppanen's brother.
I know Kuoppanen. Has a fine horse.
A very fine horse.
And some good forest.
Prime forest right by the road.
Easy terrain, not a rock in sight.
He won't be selling any day soon.
You'd have to be crazy to sell
nowadays. And he's managing fine-
what with farmland and cattle and all.
He won't sell it now,
a cunning fox like that.
The guy doesn't bend down for
nothing.
His nose can pick a scent
against the wind.
Why would he need paper scrap?
He can roll his tobacco in newspaper.
And if it's cash he needs,
he can build a boat or two.
They pay good money
for boats these days.
And his boats aren't half bad.
They dance like the wind on waves.
I have one of his boats.
Tell me, is it a good or a bad boat?
I was wondering if it needed
to be rowed at all.
I just tickled the oars
and it flew like a storm.
And he's got money. Must've sold
a hundred barrels of tar last summer.
He keeps the money stashed away
in his chest.
A family of three, how much grub
does it need over the winter?
The wife's as cheap
as a squirrel in winter.
The boy shoots birds by the flock
and sells them in town.
Not a waxwing do they boil
for themselves.
And not a drop of coffee do
they serve their guests.
House like a castle,
but never a bed to offer.
They'd tell you to build a nest
out in the wild.
During the war he skinned 500 marks
for a pound of stale butter.
I once walked a full league of bog
to buy pork from him.
No pork, no pigs, says he.
Meanwhile his wife's carving
a roast so fast her ears are dancing.
And the man's got pork fat
bleeding from his beard.
Shameless man! A wolf!
I hope thunder burns down his rotten
forest. Who'd want to buy it anyway?
And his boats are useless!
Keels of aspen
and ribs of blueberry twigs!
Cows as thin as racing dogs,
his gelding skeleton thin.
He should be arrested for
mishandling animals!
If he walked through that door
this minute-
I'd beat him black and blue.
With a big fist!
Hot damn. Did I cut myself?
Got carried away carving?
-Must've got distracted.
How'bout that coffee?
What a find!
Look!
Major discovery. This is special.
A rare species of grass.
I must get this dried and stored
at once.
Plenty of those over there
by the brook.
And tall as a beacon, too.
Reaching well over a man's head.
Where?
I should be getting to my research.
You're clear about today's program?
Sure am.
-So, let's get to work.
And remember to make sure
the birds remain clean.
Devil's dingleberries!
City folks making hay.
One strand of hay in a tin jar!
Not much for a cow to munch on.
Crazies!
Fold goes under the wing...
They're staying on that island?
Yes, with Konta Pylkkonen as
their guide and catcher.
Konsta?
-Yes.
A bit of a character, ain't he?
Odd and peculiar like?
They say he's not like real people.
Indeed he ain't.
They say he went to some fancy
schools when he was younger.
His mother Riitu
had a cottage nearby.
But even old Riitu never
knew what he was up to.
He left home in '17,
stayed away for seven years.
No one knows where.
He ain't one of us.
Word has it his father was an artist
who came here to paint in 1896.
Riitu used to model for him.
They'd seen her wading naked in
the bay, picking water lilies.
The artist used to lodge
in Riitu's cottage.
They say he paid for
Konsta's studies, too.
Who knows. People talk.
Nosypokes!
Stick their filthy snouts into
every hole.
Sniff so deep they have
snot gargling in their throats.
Badmouthing old Riitu!
Should have left her alone.
Poor mother,
life wasn't easy for you.
My old mother.
So it goes.
High pressure, that's what
we've got in the skies.
We checked it on the barometer
back in the research center.
High pressure coming
from the Icelands.
The atmosphere will be smiling
for some time.
The radio said low pressure
from Russia.
The radio's wrong.
I took a close look at the barometer
and it was pointing toward Icelands.
I spent four years studying the weather
on the west coast.
Was it you I heard shooting today?
Yes.
We were hunting birds, with special
permission from the President.
When those schoolmen wrote me in
the winter-
I sent an application to
the President straight off.
The Parliament approved of it
in a month.
So I got the permit in May.
I'm acting as an expert.
Studying fledglings, to see
if they have any abnormalities.
Like mange or tapeworms.
I wonder if I have worms, the way
my insides cramp in the mornings.
Haven't seen a doctor, since it
only troubles me some days.
Doctors!
Drop by the island when those younger
scholars are out in the woods.
I'll take a look trough
the microscope.
Alone I'll be able to concentrate.
Doctors know a lot about people,
but the worm is an animal.
And animal research,
now that's my field.
Mind if I ask you is it true
what the folks say?
That you went to some fancy
schools in your traveling days.
Turned a few pages, that's all.
But I got my Master's degree in
the winter of '24.
Couldn't take all that sitting around
so I took to the sea.
So it's true!
Sailed the Finnish Swan as far
as Borneo and the horse latitudes.
Ran into a dreadful storm there.
The sea was boiling in rage.
I floated 400 km on the Australian
coast, clinging to an oar.
I killed six sharks with my fist,
drank the blood. Such is sea life.
Mind if I ask, did you pay
for your schooling yourself?
Or did some other man?
-Why do you ask?
No need for outsiders to poke their
nose in a man's business.
Facts I'll talk about easy
but not my personal matters.
Come and see me on the island and
we'll look into that worm of yours.
Thanks for the coffee.
Gave them something to talk about
for the winter.
A frisky woman can't hold a sweet
bit of rumor in her mouth for long.
But they're decent enough people
and fine farmers.
Curiosity is altogether human.
Aren't you Konsta Pylkkonen?
First name's from my mother,
the other one I inherited.
You're a thinker, I hear.
Wise is what people say.
Can't a man be whatever he is
if he does no harm to others?
Is it Severi?
Konsta Pylkkonen, you devil.
-What's with the hay?
Picked up some leftovers from the
logging site. What do you think?
Fit enough for cattle.
Got around to having children?
-I cash in allowance for five.
That's what happens-
when you and your wife
put your smarter ends together.
Quit that log-floating job?
-I'm heading a timber camp now.
Caught any blue thoughts lately?
You remember.
-And the universe and the rest.
You're a clever fellow, Pylkkonen.
Someone has to think the shores
of the world straight.
If your head can take it.
An ordinary head can't.
I should get going. See you.
See you around.
Where did you learn to
make fish soup?
Never had a better one in my life.
How did I learn?
I had to, when I was on a
logging camp in Lapland.
In the summer we feasted
on salmon night and day.
I was the cook and not a soul
there went hungry.
You mustn't forget the onion.
It relates well to fish.
Are you from around here?
-Near enough.
Your parents still alive?
-My father I don't know of.
My mother died during the
depression when I was in Lapland.
She had a cabin near here.
They say she starved to death.
Damn, it's raining!
Matti, cover the gear!
The birds! The birds!
Pylkkonen, get the tarp!
Microscope!
Marvelous rain!
This is splendid!
Matti, get in!
-This is fun!
This feels good!
Does that Ojasto have a screw loose?
Looks so balanced on the outside-
but there he goes, fluttering
naked in the storm. A grown man.
A man's stomach sure
is full of intestines.
Blue ones and red ones.
That one must be the appendix.
It ends over there.
That's where all the slag piles up.
And that's what we stuff with
coffee and butter and cream-
and then boy do we feel good.
Poor human soul,
what a weedy nest you live in.
Greetings.
Came to see you about those worms.
So bad was my stomach and head
pricking this morning.
I brought you the supplies as well.
-Head? I figured as much.
Some bowel produce.
The doctor always asks for it.
I'm not going to sniff at your dung!
This is the atom age, with all
the inventions to go along.
Spit on that stick
and I'll examine it.
Lady Luck sure was wearing
spiked shoes when she kicked you.
Oh, my God.
I have worms?
A man in his prime.
How merciless God can sometimes be.
Parasites and paraparasites,
trillions of them.
Horrendous! Horrific!
What are they?
-Grieving widow and four children.
Beastly guttural inhabitants.
Suck the blood and eat the flesh.
Sheer torture.
What are you saying?
-Hush, I'll look in the book.
What? Tell me, Pylkkonen!
-Master Pylkkonen.
I like to be called master
when I'm conducting research.
Worms of the worst kind.
They live in the stomach but climb
up at night to scavenge-
the cracks between the teeth when
they run out of grub in the stomach.
They lay their eggs in the mouth,
and climb from there into the nose.
Then they bore through the flesh
into the brain and start to eat it.
They've discovered skulls
of dead people-
with skeins of worms
but no brain left.
But rest at ease. It's easy to cure.
You should cook up a mixture
of ants, dandelions and tar.
Here's the prescription.
Take it three days in a row and
wash it down with some brandy.
Ants hate snakes and worms,
and we all know about tar.
Brandy refreshes the mind
and weakens the worms.
Gargle it in your mouth first,
and then swallow.
The parasites will instantly die
in the mouth and stomach.
Keep away from work and stress.
When I make a prescription,
you can kiss your worms goodbye.
Now duty calls.
Hope that cure wasn't too strong.
A man's health is no joking matter.
But he didn't have to start
badmouthing my mother.
Let him gargle.
I'm out of here!
What got into them?
Has he done some studying?
Some say he's even got a degree.
Don't know. But Konsta
sure is one of a kind.
Someone said they heard
him crying drunk-
that he was married to a rich widow
in Lapland.
That he'd nearly killed a man
for fooling around with the widow.
Konsta took the man's money
and ran off to become a sailor.
But who knows. People talk.
And what about his father?
I heard at the store that he was an
artist who came here to paint.
They say he was someone famous.
But what do I know.
He does seem to have artist blood
in him. And he's smart.
A philosopher, like.
Why the hell would they cart
people to concentration camps?
Treating people like beasts.
Damn it all.
You're right. Damn it.
Only wicked dimwits would shut
people behind bobbed wire fences.
They'll stick a bayonet up your ass
for just heaving a sigh.
Seems like total daptrap.
Crazy crackpots.
-Barking mad.
What would you do, Pylkkonen,
if you had the power?
I'd fly in a rocket to
the concentration camps.
Show them a whole new order.
I'd give everyone a hundred hectares
of land and a house and fields.
Then people wouldn't even know
they were in a concentration camp.
What would you do with the
current guards and kings?
Don't you start.
Why punish them,
if guarding runs in their blood.
I'd put their skills to use.
They'd make excellent
reindeer herders.
Guarding the herd in the fields.
They'd make fine
lighthouse keepers, too.
If they're natural born guards,
let them work at peacetime too.
You agree?
But they'd make lousy
shepherds of soul.
He's a clever man, that Pylkkonen.
Serves smoked thoughts
in an extraordinary sauce.
And nobody seems to know
much anything about it.
And another thing.
They say his father was an artist-
who had painted his mother
wading naked amidst water lilies.
At the turn of the century.
Turn of the century?
Naked amidst water lilies?
Then that would be...
-The master himself.
He did travel in these parts painting.
No?
-Just think about it.
What are these?
Not heather cock, not black grouse,
not hazelhen, not ptarmigan.
Some supernaturality.
What is this bird?
A hazelhen?
-No.
Ptarmigan or black grouse?
They can't be real.
Moses, you can have these.
Make a soup.
But don't tell the schoolmen.
I'm not allowed to shoot grown birds.
I won't.
Hazelhen black grouse?
Ptarmigan black grouse?
It can't be true.
Could it?
Pylkkonen!
Pylkkonen!
-What?
What the hell did you shoot?
What kind of a bird was it?
I don't know. Supernatural it was.
Deformed.
I put it out of its misery.
Can you describe it?
-It was a mongrel.
Black grouse, hazelhen and ptarmigan,
and a bit of heather cock.
There were two. Male and female.
Where are the birds now?
-I gave them to Moses to cook.
Damn! Let's get in the boat, now!
Putte! Pylkkonen!
No time to waste!
Pylkkonen may have shot-
two extremely rare
crossbreeds of birds.
I'm not sure what the mix
exactly is-
but it's a scientific sensation!
And if I'm correct,
we have found a crossbreed-
which has never before been
encountered anywhere in the world.
Mind the rocks! Turn left!
Broken cotter pin!
Give me a nail, quick.
No nails in this boat.
Kuoppanen built it.
Damn that Kuoppanen!
Oars? Benches!
Take the benches.
Man, oh man!
God, oh God!
Damnest damn!
Matti, calm down!
Where are the birds?
You plucked them already?
What birds?
Where are the birds Pylkkonen
brought you yesterday?
I wouldn't know...
Tell me. You won't get fined.
-Where are the birds?
Might be there in Konsta's quarters.
Whoever left them there.
Don't be scared.
You won't be charged for poaching.
We have a permit to shoot birds
this time of the year.
And it was Pylkkonen who...
Hazel cock!
Hazel cock!
The only one in the world.
I knew the birds were a scientific
sensation, I just forgot to tell.
Sure you knew.
I know what I know!
Wipe off that grin.
Such a fuss over a simple mongrel.
What with the world situation
so tense.
You have no idea how valuable
this discovery is to science.
It's a sensation!
Your name will be in the papers!
Printed in textbooks-
bird books and scientific studies.
You will get your full reward
and a special bonus.
We will get it for you
if we have to turn every stone.
My name in the papers?
-And every damned place.
You'll be world famous, Pylkkonen.
Name in the papers?
So Riitu's bastard son became
a world famous researcher.
A scholar, a professor, an academic.
That way first, and then over there.
To the house of
Jokes-You-To-Death.
We'll spend the night there,
and then head over to Havukka.
Won't be needing the tents then.
We can send them by boat to Kuhmo.
Jokes-You-To-Death?
-He's a clever fellow, you'll see.
I want you to take special
care of this parcel.
Send it on the first train to Helsinki.
Registered mail.
Make sure that it gets there safely.
You understand? Safely.
-Safe it is.
So, let's go.
Konsta! Come back and think
for us again.
Not an easy life, Konsta's.
He's a bit too finely tuned
for this wicked world.
Rare fungus species...
Damn!
Shot from 400 meters by logger-
I mean, scholar Konsta Pylkkonen.
Damn!
Habitation of Jokes-You-To-Death.
Has he really joked someone to death?
They say he's taken three lives.
All killed with laughter.
Men, prepare to laugh.
There you are. We've been expecting.
How did you know to expect?
It snowed on snowless ground
in the fall.
Would you be willing to put up
three travelers for the night?
How many?
-Us. Three.
Sure.
Oddly shaped, this sheath.
Arched on one side
and curved on the other.
My cows sure are clever.
I was sowing seeds in the spring
and they came to watch.
Stood there waiting
for the grass to grow.
Give it a rest, father.
-Good thing I have a hoard.
A big lump of gold under the
barn floor.
Something to be thankful for.
Sure comes handy in a poor house.
A hundred kilos of pure gold
under the floor.
Lucky I have a daughter
to brighten the day.
Won the local beauty pageant, too.
Come back in. He's not done yet.
That sure loosened the laughing
apple under the chin.
You heard him talk.
Clever, ain't he?
I'm going to sleep.
They made beds for you there too.
I'll light a campfire
at the foot of that hill.
We'll boil some coffee
and grab a bite.
That should keep us going the rest
of the way. Just follow this path.
Picture a crisp morning
in late winter.
Clickin' and clackin',
jumpin' and hoppin',
on a frozen pond by the bog
is a flock of black grouse.
And on a rocky islet
where pine trees grow-
at the edge of a small meadow-
two fan-tailed heather cocks are
battling over a brown lady grouse.
Hard does the heather cock sultan
strike its winged sword.
The younger male must bow down-
its crest quivering of lust,
withdrawing to the heath.
But lo and behold.
Out steps a lady hazelhen-
making curious eyes at the
young, black heather cock.
Through the mist does he see
the lonely bird of a feather.
And the heather cock starts to
puff his chest and cluck.
At sunrise we see-
a hefty lady hazelhen scampering
into the brushes-
with the lusty heather cock
hot on her heel.
Sultan of the wilds! Seducer!
Ladies' man!
Hear us, world! Miracle of science
fresh from the Kainuu wilds!
I suspected as much on that island.
The guy might have a screw loose.
It runs on electricity.
It sucks in dust, trash, anything
smaller or bigger than a pine cone...
Should we stop for a moment?
-Not here.
I'll be darned!
Is it Konsta Pylkkonen?
Keep heading that way, there's
a good spot for lighting a fire.
But we're almost in Havukka.
-I need coffee. Go!
What're you doing around here?
I thought you were living rich
down south.
Seems I'm not.
So you've found happiness in
these parts of the world?
Remember back in '15 when we
were roaming Lapland as hirelings?
Those were the days.
Why didn't you head south with me
when I asked?
What a life I had.
Money pouring in like rain.
Got me a house and a car
and a motorcycle.
Even a Hoover washing machine.
But I spent like a sailor,
and a conman took the rest.
Been working as a logger since,
but it was fun while it lasted.
Why didn't you come with me?
Didn't feel like it!
Just forget it.
You could've tasted a bit
of good life too.
So you stayed working
in Lapland until '24?
I know because I went asking.
And now you're a logger here.
Are the woods here any good?
Can you make money?
Thinking of settling down here?
Reckoned I might.
-A word of advice from an old friend.
Don't stay.
All you'll find is torment and toil.
Leave as soon as you can.
I've had enough myself.
I thought they had good woods here.
Overgrown brush and bog. The devil
himself couldn't make a living here.
Look at me.
A young man, one foot in the grave.
So hard have I slaved.
And the people here are beasts!
Did they offer you booze?
They did.
They seemed like decent folk.
-Liars!
They start off nice,
and then they rob you clean.
They'll steal your money
and throw you into the wild.
They've robbed me of all
my money and timber.
It's God's truth. Don't stay.
Go south.
There's work to be had
and people treat you good.
Take that path and don't look back.
I'm telling you as a friend.
Konsta, thank you for telling me.
What are friends for.
Have a drink.
-No.
I've quit drinking.
He believed me.
Won't be around to wag his tongue.
So he's back to being poor.
Damn! If he stopped by Havukka,
Iita will never believe me again.
I think I'll run along ahead of you.
You can take your time getting there.
I can't stay and do research.
I need to heat the sauna and all.
Should check the fish trap for supper.
Just follow that path
and you'll reach a clear lake.
Stay right of the canyon
until you reach Havukka.
Got it?
-Yes...
I'll be off then.
Wonder who that guy at the shop was?
Pylkkonen sure was in hurry to leave.
Konsta!
Konsta Pylkkonen!
Did you solve the mystery of fire?
-Hush, boy!
Have you had any visitors?
A bald man?!
I'm such a cur.
Never mind, Nikke.
I'll tell you about the mystery of fire
in the evening.
And about the firefox, what it did
and where it went.
Nikke, my friend. Let's go.
Selmi, did someone stop by here?
A bald man.
Not that I know.
We have gentleman guests on the way.
They'll be coming along that path.
Somewhere between docents
and doctors.
The house's reputation is at stake.
Make a soup of these.
And cook up a few kilos of pancakes
and some coffee for dessert.
I'll get the sauna hot
and ready for the gents.
Hazel cock...
Hazel cock...
Hazel cock, indeed.
Come now, Pylkkonen.
Shouldn't we drop formalities?
I'm Putte, and it's a short name.
I'm Matti.
And I'm Pylkko... Konsta.
And this is Nikke.
Today's paper, is it?
Arttu brought it from town.
Haven't had time to read it yet.
Some more coffee for the
gentlemen? Nice and hot.
Here it is! "Exceptional crossbreed
discovered in Lentua, Kuhmo.
Shot by local logger K. Pylkkonen.
Matti Ojasto BSc... describes
the "hazel cock" as a sensation-
and a revolutionary scientific
discovery.
Our paper will follow up on
the progress of the research.
Reuters has also reported on
the discovery worldwide."
So we put the name Kainuu
on the world map-
and Pylkkonen onto the lips
of every scientist.
The world of science has
gained a new hero.
I'll be darned.
Our Konsta is world famous.
"Logger K. Pylkkonen."
"Matti Ojasto BSc". No mention of you.
No Kronberg.
-Ah well...
Konsta Pylkkonen. Will you take
me with you to Kontiomoki?
So I'd get to see a train.
I might, if your parents agree.
Be a good boy.
-Yes.
Are you the heroes who shot
those hazel cocks?
Konsta Pylkkonen. He's world famous.
Five, six, seven hundred...
And here's another thousand.
Fair and square.
Really, you don't have to.
How will you feed your children
if you throw all your money into me?
Please, we insist.
A gift from me and Putte.
If there's more to come from
those birds, you'll get your share.
And you'll get your shooter's fee,
whatever it takes.
There should be some reward. Can't
let the museum have them for free.
What about those scales?
-Damn, I almost forgot.
I'll go buy the newspaper.
Put this in your pocket.
-What is it?
Ethanol. From Ojasto's big bottle.
I replaced it with some water.
But not a drop until the train has
left. Or Ojasto will skin me.
Save it for the sauna with Selmi.
-Sauna it is.
Famous throughout the country.
Famous throughout the world.
How about we just continue
trekking along the train tracks?
A bureaucrat's life is like
being in a fish trap.
You swim in and you
lose your freedom.
You'll come back next summer
and we'll do more research?
I might know of a couple
of more mongrels.
What? Really?
Seems I'm the world's
leading expert in the field.
If you write up any of those
dissertations, send me a couple.
Something to pass the evenings with.
I'd learn to dissertate too.
You bet!
The scholars of nature scuttled off.
Matti and Putte. Fine fellows.
Let's go.
There's thinking to do in Havukka.
I'll teach you.
We'll think. Strike down
the dictators and their shams.
Sink them in the bog and bang
them on the head with a ram.
We'll punch those devious devils
in the chin with our thoughts-
and thump them speechless.
Thoughts are free like a hawk.
They won't stay behind bobbed wire.
Thoughts can't be held in camps.
Thoughts have big wings.
Translation: Susan Heiskanen
Konsta Pylkkonen!
A hawk was flying over the lake.
Had its nails like this.
It holds them so when it's about
to grab a hare or a mole.
But look at this foot.
What is the purpose of these nails?
I'm not a hawk or a woodpecker
or a squirrel.
Let's go see if your folks
have the coffee ready.
The Lord shall reward
a mother's work
You damned snothead!
Don't spit on my floors.
Some prince you are.
Slobbering on the floor.
Get some paper and wipe it off.
Easy now, Iita.
There are worse things in
the world, if you have to fret.
Shut your mouth!
Stop wising off.
Don't you understand
you'll give my boys consumption.
Hear, hear, Iita.
Don't you yap at me.
I've never had consumption
and I never will.
I can saw up a ten-inch log
without losing my breath.
I'm still a frisk man so...
Stop so-soing.
Just wipe the spit off.
I sure won't clean it!
I work like a dog washing your
filthy clothes and getting you grub.
And Selmi won't hear a word
spoken against his hero.
But drown the walls in spit
if you like.
I'll become a hobo, take the boys
and never come back.
You have that paper somewhere?
You should know, lying on newspapers
all day long and dishing out wisdoms.
You're not so smart as you think.
Why did she have to bring Selmi
into this, too?
Poor Selmi suffered second hand,
and for no damned reason.
Maybe I shouldn't have spat that spit-
but that cockroach happened
be marching there.
What does she know?
Calling me stupid.
Forgive me, Iita,
and let's make peace.
I'll buy you a package of real
coffee from the commissary store.
Or two if the foreman lets me
have an advance.
I bring you fish and hares and birds.
Carry water and chop you wood.
But the weight of bigger questions-
sometimes makes me
forget outward things.
I'm not so bad as everybody thinks.
Your mother blamed your father
second hand this morning.
Started shouting at him for
no good reason.
What are second hands?
Who knows. Never seen'em.
The Indians may have them,
or other wild folks.
Don't ask useless questions, son.
Start rowing.
Did you know, Nikke, that a firefox
keeps a den on that other shore?
Can you guess what a firefox is?
I couldn't.
Listen carefully.
It's a fox that has a red nose
and pink eyes.
The firefox can't see in the dark.
And since it goes hunting at night-
you'd think it'd run headlong
into trees and rocks.
But it doesn't-
because its fur glows in the dark
like a carbide lamp.
In the dead of night the fur
shows the fox the way.
That's where the firefox
gets its name.
Is the firefox there on the shore?
Is it angry?
Not angry. Shy's more like it.
I'm the only one in these
woods that's ever seen it.
Once I peeked into its den,
and it was bright as day there.
It had some fine-looking
cubs there too.
They glowed so sweetly.
And hear this, son-
they were eating a black swan,
black as soot.
Where did they get a black swan?
From the gray man of the woods
who lives in a hollow pine snag.
No one's ever seen him,
but there's no doubt he exists.
Or there'd be no explaining the
wonders of the heartland.
You understand?
Here's a willow flute for you.
Play it and sorrow won't
ever dwell in you.
By the way. It's a saying.
'Second hand'.
So I've read.
Look at that, Nikke.
Wonder what's on its mind?
Must be chasing something.
The way it wriggles,
could be either a boy or a girl.
Think they send these critters
here from Headquarters to do-
smaller measuring tasks
when humans are too busy?
But how is development served by
a worm scampering in the woods?
Should we just forget about all this?
No, if we do the worm justice.
For the worm is the favorite food
of many a winged creature.
And this is precisely what
we have to consider-
or we can't reach the basic truth.
Usually even politicos don't
consider things enough-
even though there are a million
plus wisdoms in the world.
There should be a list of the pecking
order between wisdoms.
That would make many a nation's
government a better place.
Do you know what a government is?
-No.
Why should you? Enjoy while
you still don't have to think.
You can just loll in
the bliss of childhood.
Damned, jackass!
Don't go eating a man's shirt!
Cretin! Haven't got enough
shirts to serve as food.
Go eat hay from the bog
and not someone's shirt.
People don't give their beasts enough
salts in the summer.
They have to eat shirts.
Ah, you came to count the logs.
G'morning.
-Morning.
Think I could get a little advance?
Since you got the count.
I need to buy a new shirt and some
such stuff from the commissary store.
What a stupid cow that was.
Witless creature of nature.
Four packs of pipe tobacco, please.
Why were those men laughing?
-They're a bunch of crap mongers.
Sticking their filthy snouts
into other people's business.
Don't you ever become like that.
Like what?
-Average.
Konsta Pylkkonen?
-Yes.
Letter from Moses Pessi.
Konsta, you loggerhog. Here.
Writing to tell you that there's
some city gents here in Lentua.
Come, they want a dayworker -
and will pay 500 a day
for needless work.
I've no time from haymaking.
Come and take their money.
They're studying nature and hay from
swamps and other animals.
They have the President's permission
to shoot birds off season-
and they need a dayworker
to shoot the birds.
I have some fine moonshine.
But don't tell nobody.
Moses Pessi. Here.
Learned wizards. Schoolmen.
How I've longed to meet real scholars.
Why did he call me loggerhog?!
Loggerhog...
-Don't you laugh.
He's a ninny, Moses.
Why am I lounging here
on the ice of this big lake?
No food, no skis.
No socks on my feet.
So those are second hands?
Handy, indeed.
Hardworking folks around here,
they even work while they ski.
Wake up.
Come and eat.
Why are you lying there so late?
Rise and shine.
Are you ill?
Is it raining? Raining hard?
-And wet.
Conquest of the Universe
Zoology
I'm taking the day off
since it's raining.
I'm going up to the attic to read
and think about big questions.
I'll have my afternoon
coffee at the usual time.
You can make it stronger
than last Sunday.
Can I come with you, Konsta?
-If you like.
Schoolmaster, numskull.
Thinks he's so smart.
Borneo, Borneo, Borneo.
Why did the surveyors name it that?
Or it could be a good name.
Borneo.
But tomorrow I'm off to Lentua.
You could come and see
me off part of the way.
What will you do in Lentua?
-Thinking calls.
Big thoughts are moping in my head
and demanding to get out.
There on the open lake there's
room for blue thoughts.
Blue ones are the best.
Or the color of the sky in a
big freeze, not yellow or red.
Or like moonshine in a brown flask
with an old cognac bottle cork.
Rarely do I manage to catch
such thoughts.
See, it's my lot in life to think
through almost everything.
And a life like that isn't all joy.
No more than any other life.
Except if you're making moonshine,
which clearly differs from most life.
Think that snag is hollow?
Should I finally do it?
Do I dare?
But there's no one here to see.
Now this is a large cavity.
Here they hold fort: the woodpeckers-
the titmice, the weasels,
the owls, the whatnots.
That sure is some tower.
I'd feel at home here,
if I were a woodpecker.
Like it was made to order.
Nature sure is uncanny.
I'll head off from here to Lentua,
and you'll turn back home.
Can you find the way?
-Yes.
I'll solve the mystery of fire
and tell you when I get back.
See if you can spot a firefox
while you're at it.
I will.
And then we'll think things clear.
I'll teach you to think, too.
I already can, a little.
-A little.
Off you go.
Hey, Moses.
-Is it Konsta Pylkkonen?
Back to do some rowing?
Needed a peaceful place
to think my blue thoughts.
Well, here you'll find all the
quiet you need to think in blue.
Who are those men in the lake?
What part of nature are they studying?
And why did you call me
loggerhog in your letter?
Have they been here long?
I like the sound of loggerhog.
Those men on the island are real
gents. Docents or something.
Or professors at least.
They showed up here a week ago
and are staying on the island.
They tried to hire me,
but I'm in the middle of haymaking.
They want someone who knows
his birds and beasts.
I told them Konsta Pylkkonen
was a fine woodsman.
Well, I do know my animals
as well as the next man.
I said so, and sent you that letter.
I told them you'd be here
in a couple of days.
How did you know?
-I guessed.
I can guess my own comings
and goings myself!
Are they real scholars? Wisemen?
They're as wise as they get.
And they have machines
and star binoculars-
and this scope something,
all kinds of gadgets.
Star binoculars.
-Yes.
Those men can't be stupid.
Maybe Masters or Doctors even?
And they have a permit from the
President to shoot birds off season.
But listen, Konsta...
The thing is, in spite of our
small differences-
we'll all meet in the graveyard
in the end.
That's one big family gathering
no human can avoid.
It was Adam and Eve's fault
for going apple thieving.
Why did they have to dip into that
tree of good and bad knowledge?
It's no place to go.
But Adam went,
like a jittery squirrel.
He passed on to his sons
the original sin-
which has ever since grown,
thanks to his offspring.
Everything went up a hawk's ass
when he dangled in that tree.
But hey, there are some gents
fishing by the rapids.
Assistants to those schoolmen
or something.
Assistants to the schoolmen?
I should go measure their wisdom
and amount of information-
whether it's store-grade timber
or rotten wood.
Store-grade timber...
Salmon biting greedy?
It is, even in this sunny weather.
But do you really need all
those rods and poles?
I used to dump cartloads of salmon
into the bushes over there-
using just small fry for bait.
I didn't need all those widgets.
You can't catch'em with those.
If you do, they're underage or faulty.
But young that you are
you have time to be stupid.
Stop rambling, Moses.
Go home, if you can't behave.
No need to offend people.
You're from around here?
We're from Helsinki. Brought supplies
to those scholars on the island.
They are waiting eagerly
for their dayworker.
Either of you happen to know
someone called Pylkkonen?
Never heard.
That's me.
I agreed to serve as their guide
in this neck of woods.
Excellent. They were asking.
Think you could stop by there
tonight already?
Might you be docents?
-Just students. At the university.
University?
Mind if I ask you a few things?
-Not at all.
Nice that you're interested.
Second hands.
Might you know whether wild folks
in the south have more hands-
than us northerners?
Do the second hands go under the arm?
The professors ever mention?
Second hands. Haven't heard.
Could be a saying?
-People will say anything.
Can you see to the moon with
those university telescopes?
Are there dwellings there?
What kind?
Have they already flown a rocket
to the moon, those outlanders?
Or is it a state secret?
Could cause a diplomatic crisis.
Those men on the island,
are they Doctors already?
Or do they steel need to dissertate?
-They're just Masters or Licentiates.
Licentiates? Are they very wise,
these licentiates?
What is their amount of information?
Big?
They are very learned men.
-Yes, wisemen.
What about the fat-tailed sheep?
Is the fat under the tail
or on top of it?
And if it's a huge lump-
does the sheep need
a cart to carry it?
You know?
Looks like a good year
for blueberries.
Unless Jack takes them.
-Jack who?
Jack Frost.
-Jack Frost...
Cute the way you laugh.
Better than most.
You can't talk with these ninnies.
They just listen with their
eyes bulging like cattle.
But with those licentiates
I'll get to measure wisdom.
I wonder what type their wisdom is?
Theoretic or the long-range type?
Are they top of the line wise?
If the universe was even a tad bit
bigger than now-
it would be too big.
But nature is purposeful.
I reckon space is built precisely so-
that it can fit in
everything there is.
There's room for everyone-
and even a greedy man can
grope as much of it as he can.
When I was young and reckless,
I once measured the whole universe.
I stared angrily at the universe-
and first let my eye climb up
a regular stretch.
Then I imagined a black speck
as a fixed point in the sky-
and sent my eye on a climb again.
And then another, and so on...
I kept at it for four hours.
I drew a mark on a tobacco box
for every stretch I traveled.
I don't know how far I'd got,
when my eyes were hit hard.
I knew it was the roof
of the universe-
and I decided I should climb on it.
And when I was standing there
next to the chimney:
What do you know?
Another universe began.
That made a small man feel frail.
I was scared that space was
packed full of moons and stars-
each with their own peculiar dwellers.
I decided to build walls and a
roof for the universe.
I spent my days logging
and nights building the walls.
It started to wear me out.
So I took sleeping guys to help me,
borrowed them from their sleep.
Selmi was wriggling by that wall
like a waxwing.
And Moses and Arttu, too.
I growled at them when they
tried to stop for a smoke.
But we got it done,
and put up pretty wallpaper-
with the sun and the moon
and stars added on.
It felt safe and sound to have
the sky the way it was back home.
Poor buggers thought they were
sleeping while I kept them at work.
No salmon will swim to that line.
He'll make a curious dayworker
for those scientists-
if he's as talkative when he's sober.
If I could live in the skin of
a scholar for just a year.
I could read the world's wisest
books and practice my brain.
Walking the cobblestones
with a book under the arm.
I'd spend all my time at the museum
of animals and in the observatory.
Studying wise thoughts.
Generally everybody has their own
wisdom, but it can be borrowed.
Even a stupid man can be wise
in his own way.
The stupid man doesn't have
the same problem as the wise man-
whose brain has suffered
many an infection.
In some ways there's too much
wisdom in the world.
It builds up and bloats
until your head turns blue.
There's long-range wisdom,
which I have a fair amount of.
It has only be given to a chosen few,
but there're two faults in it.
Things don't happen or they
happen altogether differently.
If you keep this in mind, the shores
of the world are traveled lightly.
Then there's theoretic wisdom-
which you see in newspapers
or declarations of sorts.
It's like an old shotgun
with a broken lock.
It can blow up in your face.
But the cutest type of wisdom
is after-wisdom.
Now there man is at his wisest.
But when push comes to shove-
man has as much authority
in the universe as an ant.
Now the mysteries of grass
will surely be solved.
What's that gadget. A microscope?
Would they let me take a peek too?
This man is no fraud.
Carex pilulifera.
-What did he say?
Deschampsia flexuosa, sterile stem.
He's a wizard, of the best kind.
Moses sure did right by
writing me that letter.
Called me a loggerhog, that cur!
Thinks writing's the same as
spilling ink on paper.
But that man's a witch, a wizard.
Evening.
-Evening.
Fish biting?
-Just a nibble.
Plenty of fish in this lake.
Just two nets have kept us in supply.
Yep. Fish do swim in water.
But the biggest salmon
have disappeared.
Probably scared off by the log rafts.
Moses Pessi wrote me that you
needed a dayworker.
So I came asking.
Your fire was so well hidden,
I almost couldn't find you.
You're Pylkkonen!
We've been expecting you.
I'm Ojasto, Master of Science.
My colleague, Putte Kronberg
is asleep in the tent.
Putte! Putte, wake up!
Can you shoot well? Hunt?
Fish? Do you know birds well?
I can do all that.
We also need you to look after the
camp and cook and make coffee-
while Kronberg and I are at work.
And you can shoot birds for
our research?
Sure can.
Pylkkonen is here, the dayworker.
Kronberg.
Besides researching plants we
are also studying parasites in birds.
I have a list on the birds you need
to shoot, and how many.
We have permission from the state
to shoot birds off season.
And here's the weapon.
Small caliber, so the bullets
don't break the birds' bones.
You have to shoot at very close range.
-Now that is small.
Would it even kill an egg?
How much do you pay per day?
-Would 500 marks do?
That's a lot of money. I get ten
marks less a day as a logger.
Not worth wasting my time here
for that.
As a logger I make
well over a thousand.
5 50.
You drive a hard bargain.
We're writing a thesis and
paying the expenses ourselves.
Us scientists don't earn much.
The state doesn't give you
decent pay for this work?
It's a scamp, the state.
No sense of judgment.
Doesn't even like to pay me,
and the forests are a killer.
It loves to collect taxes though,
same as the county.
Damn them.
I could knock a forty off.
I have a nice little salmon
in the boat. Buy it for pickling.
Come and see.
-Alright.
I'll write you a list for tomorrow.
How much do you want for it?
Can't sell for less than 300 a kilo.
-Expensive treat.
What does it weigh?
Four kilos.
-Two and a half, tops.
If you pick up a 3-kilo salmon-
and hold this one in the other hand,
you'll feel it's a kilo heavier.
That's not how it's done.
Three kilos, one hundred grams.
Could the scales be that precise?
Buy it and send it home to the missus.
How much would you
want for the scales?
We'll pay you 7 00 for the fish
and you can keep the scales-
if you'll help to carry our things
to the Kontiomoki station.
It's a deal.
There's a storm brewing.
We'll skip work tomorrow.
But here are your tasks for
the next day.
Shooting birds and fetching food.
Potatoes and milk from
the farmhouse over there.
And butter and onions, too.
You can make a fish soup.
The nets are out by that rock.
Fire. There's a mysterious substance.
Strange beast.
You don't see it unless you light it.
Where does it stay in the meantime?
It hides and hides.
But if Moses, or I-
should light a match...
Here! A big flame.
Where did it come from?
It didn't spring out of the oven,
that's too far away.
Can someone tell?
Where did it come from?
Well, I never thought of that.
I've studied fire my own fair share.
See, the air is full of fire germs,
thousands of them.
And when I strike a match,
poison splashes on the match wood.
Being that it's aspen
it becomes infected.
The fire germ attacks
the infected aspen.
And oopsy daisy!
-Oopsy daisy!
Could there be a greedier critter
than fire? It never thanks you.
And it craps ash.
It eats the poor man's house
and a logger's cabin.
It feeds on wood.
Pitchy pine is its favorite.
And if you feed it gunpowder,
it explodes of happiness.
Or dynamite.
-Or lamp oil.
Atoms it has for dessert.
But stone and asbestos
get stuck in its throat.
Tin melts and water boils
but doesn't burn.
Nor does snow.
-Nor Lentua.
But it thrives in swamps.
-Plenty of proof of that.
In the summer of '25, the Heini bog
smoldered for two weeks straight.
And old Taavetti guarded it.
Kuoppanen's brother.
I know Kuoppanen. Has a fine horse.
A very fine horse.
And some good forest.
Prime forest right by the road.
Easy terrain, not a rock in sight.
He won't be selling any day soon.
You'd have to be crazy to sell
nowadays. And he's managing fine-
what with farmland and cattle and all.
He won't sell it now,
a cunning fox like that.
The guy doesn't bend down for
nothing.
His nose can pick a scent
against the wind.
Why would he need paper scrap?
He can roll his tobacco in newspaper.
And if it's cash he needs,
he can build a boat or two.
They pay good money
for boats these days.
And his boats aren't half bad.
They dance like the wind on waves.
I have one of his boats.
Tell me, is it a good or a bad boat?
I was wondering if it needed
to be rowed at all.
I just tickled the oars
and it flew like a storm.
And he's got money. Must've sold
a hundred barrels of tar last summer.
He keeps the money stashed away
in his chest.
A family of three, how much grub
does it need over the winter?
The wife's as cheap
as a squirrel in winter.
The boy shoots birds by the flock
and sells them in town.
Not a waxwing do they boil
for themselves.
And not a drop of coffee do
they serve their guests.
House like a castle,
but never a bed to offer.
They'd tell you to build a nest
out in the wild.
During the war he skinned 500 marks
for a pound of stale butter.
I once walked a full league of bog
to buy pork from him.
No pork, no pigs, says he.
Meanwhile his wife's carving
a roast so fast her ears are dancing.
And the man's got pork fat
bleeding from his beard.
Shameless man! A wolf!
I hope thunder burns down his rotten
forest. Who'd want to buy it anyway?
And his boats are useless!
Keels of aspen
and ribs of blueberry twigs!
Cows as thin as racing dogs,
his gelding skeleton thin.
He should be arrested for
mishandling animals!
If he walked through that door
this minute-
I'd beat him black and blue.
With a big fist!
Hot damn. Did I cut myself?
Got carried away carving?
-Must've got distracted.
How'bout that coffee?
What a find!
Look!
Major discovery. This is special.
A rare species of grass.
I must get this dried and stored
at once.
Plenty of those over there
by the brook.
And tall as a beacon, too.
Reaching well over a man's head.
Where?
I should be getting to my research.
You're clear about today's program?
Sure am.
-So, let's get to work.
And remember to make sure
the birds remain clean.
Devil's dingleberries!
City folks making hay.
One strand of hay in a tin jar!
Not much for a cow to munch on.
Crazies!
Fold goes under the wing...
They're staying on that island?
Yes, with Konta Pylkkonen as
their guide and catcher.
Konsta?
-Yes.
A bit of a character, ain't he?
Odd and peculiar like?
They say he's not like real people.
Indeed he ain't.
They say he went to some fancy
schools when he was younger.
His mother Riitu
had a cottage nearby.
But even old Riitu never
knew what he was up to.
He left home in '17,
stayed away for seven years.
No one knows where.
He ain't one of us.
Word has it his father was an artist
who came here to paint in 1896.
Riitu used to model for him.
They'd seen her wading naked in
the bay, picking water lilies.
The artist used to lodge
in Riitu's cottage.
They say he paid for
Konsta's studies, too.
Who knows. People talk.
Nosypokes!
Stick their filthy snouts into
every hole.
Sniff so deep they have
snot gargling in their throats.
Badmouthing old Riitu!
Should have left her alone.
Poor mother,
life wasn't easy for you.
My old mother.
So it goes.
High pressure, that's what
we've got in the skies.
We checked it on the barometer
back in the research center.
High pressure coming
from the Icelands.
The atmosphere will be smiling
for some time.
The radio said low pressure
from Russia.
The radio's wrong.
I took a close look at the barometer
and it was pointing toward Icelands.
I spent four years studying the weather
on the west coast.
Was it you I heard shooting today?
Yes.
We were hunting birds, with special
permission from the President.
When those schoolmen wrote me in
the winter-
I sent an application to
the President straight off.
The Parliament approved of it
in a month.
So I got the permit in May.
I'm acting as an expert.
Studying fledglings, to see
if they have any abnormalities.
Like mange or tapeworms.
I wonder if I have worms, the way
my insides cramp in the mornings.
Haven't seen a doctor, since it
only troubles me some days.
Doctors!
Drop by the island when those younger
scholars are out in the woods.
I'll take a look trough
the microscope.
Alone I'll be able to concentrate.
Doctors know a lot about people,
but the worm is an animal.
And animal research,
now that's my field.
Mind if I ask you is it true
what the folks say?
That you went to some fancy
schools in your traveling days.
Turned a few pages, that's all.
But I got my Master's degree in
the winter of '24.
Couldn't take all that sitting around
so I took to the sea.
So it's true!
Sailed the Finnish Swan as far
as Borneo and the horse latitudes.
Ran into a dreadful storm there.
The sea was boiling in rage.
I floated 400 km on the Australian
coast, clinging to an oar.
I killed six sharks with my fist,
drank the blood. Such is sea life.
Mind if I ask, did you pay
for your schooling yourself?
Or did some other man?
-Why do you ask?
No need for outsiders to poke their
nose in a man's business.
Facts I'll talk about easy
but not my personal matters.
Come and see me on the island and
we'll look into that worm of yours.
Thanks for the coffee.
Gave them something to talk about
for the winter.
A frisky woman can't hold a sweet
bit of rumor in her mouth for long.
But they're decent enough people
and fine farmers.
Curiosity is altogether human.
Aren't you Konsta Pylkkonen?
First name's from my mother,
the other one I inherited.
You're a thinker, I hear.
Wise is what people say.
Can't a man be whatever he is
if he does no harm to others?
Is it Severi?
Konsta Pylkkonen, you devil.
-What's with the hay?
Picked up some leftovers from the
logging site. What do you think?
Fit enough for cattle.
Got around to having children?
-I cash in allowance for five.
That's what happens-
when you and your wife
put your smarter ends together.
Quit that log-floating job?
-I'm heading a timber camp now.
Caught any blue thoughts lately?
You remember.
-And the universe and the rest.
You're a clever fellow, Pylkkonen.
Someone has to think the shores
of the world straight.
If your head can take it.
An ordinary head can't.
I should get going. See you.
See you around.
Where did you learn to
make fish soup?
Never had a better one in my life.
How did I learn?
I had to, when I was on a
logging camp in Lapland.
In the summer we feasted
on salmon night and day.
I was the cook and not a soul
there went hungry.
You mustn't forget the onion.
It relates well to fish.
Are you from around here?
-Near enough.
Your parents still alive?
-My father I don't know of.
My mother died during the
depression when I was in Lapland.
She had a cabin near here.
They say she starved to death.
Damn, it's raining!
Matti, cover the gear!
The birds! The birds!
Pylkkonen, get the tarp!
Microscope!
Marvelous rain!
This is splendid!
Matti, get in!
-This is fun!
This feels good!
Does that Ojasto have a screw loose?
Looks so balanced on the outside-
but there he goes, fluttering
naked in the storm. A grown man.
A man's stomach sure
is full of intestines.
Blue ones and red ones.
That one must be the appendix.
It ends over there.
That's where all the slag piles up.
And that's what we stuff with
coffee and butter and cream-
and then boy do we feel good.
Poor human soul,
what a weedy nest you live in.
Greetings.
Came to see you about those worms.
So bad was my stomach and head
pricking this morning.
I brought you the supplies as well.
-Head? I figured as much.
Some bowel produce.
The doctor always asks for it.
I'm not going to sniff at your dung!
This is the atom age, with all
the inventions to go along.
Spit on that stick
and I'll examine it.
Lady Luck sure was wearing
spiked shoes when she kicked you.
Oh, my God.
I have worms?
A man in his prime.
How merciless God can sometimes be.
Parasites and paraparasites,
trillions of them.
Horrendous! Horrific!
What are they?
-Grieving widow and four children.
Beastly guttural inhabitants.
Suck the blood and eat the flesh.
Sheer torture.
What are you saying?
-Hush, I'll look in the book.
What? Tell me, Pylkkonen!
-Master Pylkkonen.
I like to be called master
when I'm conducting research.
Worms of the worst kind.
They live in the stomach but climb
up at night to scavenge-
the cracks between the teeth when
they run out of grub in the stomach.
They lay their eggs in the mouth,
and climb from there into the nose.
Then they bore through the flesh
into the brain and start to eat it.
They've discovered skulls
of dead people-
with skeins of worms
but no brain left.
But rest at ease. It's easy to cure.
You should cook up a mixture
of ants, dandelions and tar.
Here's the prescription.
Take it three days in a row and
wash it down with some brandy.
Ants hate snakes and worms,
and we all know about tar.
Brandy refreshes the mind
and weakens the worms.
Gargle it in your mouth first,
and then swallow.
The parasites will instantly die
in the mouth and stomach.
Keep away from work and stress.
When I make a prescription,
you can kiss your worms goodbye.
Now duty calls.
Hope that cure wasn't too strong.
A man's health is no joking matter.
But he didn't have to start
badmouthing my mother.
Let him gargle.
I'm out of here!
What got into them?
Has he done some studying?
Some say he's even got a degree.
Don't know. But Konsta
sure is one of a kind.
Someone said they heard
him crying drunk-
that he was married to a rich widow
in Lapland.
That he'd nearly killed a man
for fooling around with the widow.
Konsta took the man's money
and ran off to become a sailor.
But who knows. People talk.
And what about his father?
I heard at the store that he was an
artist who came here to paint.
They say he was someone famous.
But what do I know.
He does seem to have artist blood
in him. And he's smart.
A philosopher, like.
Why the hell would they cart
people to concentration camps?
Treating people like beasts.
Damn it all.
You're right. Damn it.
Only wicked dimwits would shut
people behind bobbed wire fences.
They'll stick a bayonet up your ass
for just heaving a sigh.
Seems like total daptrap.
Crazy crackpots.
-Barking mad.
What would you do, Pylkkonen,
if you had the power?
I'd fly in a rocket to
the concentration camps.
Show them a whole new order.
I'd give everyone a hundred hectares
of land and a house and fields.
Then people wouldn't even know
they were in a concentration camp.
What would you do with the
current guards and kings?
Don't you start.
Why punish them,
if guarding runs in their blood.
I'd put their skills to use.
They'd make excellent
reindeer herders.
Guarding the herd in the fields.
They'd make fine
lighthouse keepers, too.
If they're natural born guards,
let them work at peacetime too.
You agree?
But they'd make lousy
shepherds of soul.
He's a clever man, that Pylkkonen.
Serves smoked thoughts
in an extraordinary sauce.
And nobody seems to know
much anything about it.
And another thing.
They say his father was an artist-
who had painted his mother
wading naked amidst water lilies.
At the turn of the century.
Turn of the century?
Naked amidst water lilies?
Then that would be...
-The master himself.
He did travel in these parts painting.
No?
-Just think about it.
What are these?
Not heather cock, not black grouse,
not hazelhen, not ptarmigan.
Some supernaturality.
What is this bird?
A hazelhen?
-No.
Ptarmigan or black grouse?
They can't be real.
Moses, you can have these.
Make a soup.
But don't tell the schoolmen.
I'm not allowed to shoot grown birds.
I won't.
Hazelhen black grouse?
Ptarmigan black grouse?
It can't be true.
Could it?
Pylkkonen!
Pylkkonen!
-What?
What the hell did you shoot?
What kind of a bird was it?
I don't know. Supernatural it was.
Deformed.
I put it out of its misery.
Can you describe it?
-It was a mongrel.
Black grouse, hazelhen and ptarmigan,
and a bit of heather cock.
There were two. Male and female.
Where are the birds now?
-I gave them to Moses to cook.
Damn! Let's get in the boat, now!
Putte! Pylkkonen!
No time to waste!
Pylkkonen may have shot-
two extremely rare
crossbreeds of birds.
I'm not sure what the mix
exactly is-
but it's a scientific sensation!
And if I'm correct,
we have found a crossbreed-
which has never before been
encountered anywhere in the world.
Mind the rocks! Turn left!
Broken cotter pin!
Give me a nail, quick.
No nails in this boat.
Kuoppanen built it.
Damn that Kuoppanen!
Oars? Benches!
Take the benches.
Man, oh man!
God, oh God!
Damnest damn!
Matti, calm down!
Where are the birds?
You plucked them already?
What birds?
Where are the birds Pylkkonen
brought you yesterday?
I wouldn't know...
Tell me. You won't get fined.
-Where are the birds?
Might be there in Konsta's quarters.
Whoever left them there.
Don't be scared.
You won't be charged for poaching.
We have a permit to shoot birds
this time of the year.
And it was Pylkkonen who...
Hazel cock!
Hazel cock!
The only one in the world.
I knew the birds were a scientific
sensation, I just forgot to tell.
Sure you knew.
I know what I know!
Wipe off that grin.
Such a fuss over a simple mongrel.
What with the world situation
so tense.
You have no idea how valuable
this discovery is to science.
It's a sensation!
Your name will be in the papers!
Printed in textbooks-
bird books and scientific studies.
You will get your full reward
and a special bonus.
We will get it for you
if we have to turn every stone.
My name in the papers?
-And every damned place.
You'll be world famous, Pylkkonen.
Name in the papers?
So Riitu's bastard son became
a world famous researcher.
A scholar, a professor, an academic.
That way first, and then over there.
To the house of
Jokes-You-To-Death.
We'll spend the night there,
and then head over to Havukka.
Won't be needing the tents then.
We can send them by boat to Kuhmo.
Jokes-You-To-Death?
-He's a clever fellow, you'll see.
I want you to take special
care of this parcel.
Send it on the first train to Helsinki.
Registered mail.
Make sure that it gets there safely.
You understand? Safely.
-Safe it is.
So, let's go.
Konsta! Come back and think
for us again.
Not an easy life, Konsta's.
He's a bit too finely tuned
for this wicked world.
Rare fungus species...
Damn!
Shot from 400 meters by logger-
I mean, scholar Konsta Pylkkonen.
Damn!
Habitation of Jokes-You-To-Death.
Has he really joked someone to death?
They say he's taken three lives.
All killed with laughter.
Men, prepare to laugh.
There you are. We've been expecting.
How did you know to expect?
It snowed on snowless ground
in the fall.
Would you be willing to put up
three travelers for the night?
How many?
-Us. Three.
Sure.
Oddly shaped, this sheath.
Arched on one side
and curved on the other.
My cows sure are clever.
I was sowing seeds in the spring
and they came to watch.
Stood there waiting
for the grass to grow.
Give it a rest, father.
-Good thing I have a hoard.
A big lump of gold under the
barn floor.
Something to be thankful for.
Sure comes handy in a poor house.
A hundred kilos of pure gold
under the floor.
Lucky I have a daughter
to brighten the day.
Won the local beauty pageant, too.
Come back in. He's not done yet.
That sure loosened the laughing
apple under the chin.
You heard him talk.
Clever, ain't he?
I'm going to sleep.
They made beds for you there too.
I'll light a campfire
at the foot of that hill.
We'll boil some coffee
and grab a bite.
That should keep us going the rest
of the way. Just follow this path.
Picture a crisp morning
in late winter.
Clickin' and clackin',
jumpin' and hoppin',
on a frozen pond by the bog
is a flock of black grouse.
And on a rocky islet
where pine trees grow-
at the edge of a small meadow-
two fan-tailed heather cocks are
battling over a brown lady grouse.
Hard does the heather cock sultan
strike its winged sword.
The younger male must bow down-
its crest quivering of lust,
withdrawing to the heath.
But lo and behold.
Out steps a lady hazelhen-
making curious eyes at the
young, black heather cock.
Through the mist does he see
the lonely bird of a feather.
And the heather cock starts to
puff his chest and cluck.
At sunrise we see-
a hefty lady hazelhen scampering
into the brushes-
with the lusty heather cock
hot on her heel.
Sultan of the wilds! Seducer!
Ladies' man!
Hear us, world! Miracle of science
fresh from the Kainuu wilds!
I suspected as much on that island.
The guy might have a screw loose.
It runs on electricity.
It sucks in dust, trash, anything
smaller or bigger than a pine cone...
Should we stop for a moment?
-Not here.
I'll be darned!
Is it Konsta Pylkkonen?
Keep heading that way, there's
a good spot for lighting a fire.
But we're almost in Havukka.
-I need coffee. Go!
What're you doing around here?
I thought you were living rich
down south.
Seems I'm not.
So you've found happiness in
these parts of the world?
Remember back in '15 when we
were roaming Lapland as hirelings?
Those were the days.
Why didn't you head south with me
when I asked?
What a life I had.
Money pouring in like rain.
Got me a house and a car
and a motorcycle.
Even a Hoover washing machine.
But I spent like a sailor,
and a conman took the rest.
Been working as a logger since,
but it was fun while it lasted.
Why didn't you come with me?
Didn't feel like it!
Just forget it.
You could've tasted a bit
of good life too.
So you stayed working
in Lapland until '24?
I know because I went asking.
And now you're a logger here.
Are the woods here any good?
Can you make money?
Thinking of settling down here?
Reckoned I might.
-A word of advice from an old friend.
Don't stay.
All you'll find is torment and toil.
Leave as soon as you can.
I've had enough myself.
I thought they had good woods here.
Overgrown brush and bog. The devil
himself couldn't make a living here.
Look at me.
A young man, one foot in the grave.
So hard have I slaved.
And the people here are beasts!
Did they offer you booze?
They did.
They seemed like decent folk.
-Liars!
They start off nice,
and then they rob you clean.
They'll steal your money
and throw you into the wild.
They've robbed me of all
my money and timber.
It's God's truth. Don't stay.
Go south.
There's work to be had
and people treat you good.
Take that path and don't look back.
I'm telling you as a friend.
Konsta, thank you for telling me.
What are friends for.
Have a drink.
-No.
I've quit drinking.
He believed me.
Won't be around to wag his tongue.
So he's back to being poor.
Damn! If he stopped by Havukka,
Iita will never believe me again.
I think I'll run along ahead of you.
You can take your time getting there.
I can't stay and do research.
I need to heat the sauna and all.
Should check the fish trap for supper.
Just follow that path
and you'll reach a clear lake.
Stay right of the canyon
until you reach Havukka.
Got it?
-Yes...
I'll be off then.
Wonder who that guy at the shop was?
Pylkkonen sure was in hurry to leave.
Konsta!
Konsta Pylkkonen!
Did you solve the mystery of fire?
-Hush, boy!
Have you had any visitors?
A bald man?!
I'm such a cur.
Never mind, Nikke.
I'll tell you about the mystery of fire
in the evening.
And about the firefox, what it did
and where it went.
Nikke, my friend. Let's go.
Selmi, did someone stop by here?
A bald man.
Not that I know.
We have gentleman guests on the way.
They'll be coming along that path.
Somewhere between docents
and doctors.
The house's reputation is at stake.
Make a soup of these.
And cook up a few kilos of pancakes
and some coffee for dessert.
I'll get the sauna hot
and ready for the gents.
Hazel cock...
Hazel cock...
Hazel cock, indeed.
Come now, Pylkkonen.
Shouldn't we drop formalities?
I'm Putte, and it's a short name.
I'm Matti.
And I'm Pylkko... Konsta.
And this is Nikke.
Today's paper, is it?
Arttu brought it from town.
Haven't had time to read it yet.
Some more coffee for the
gentlemen? Nice and hot.
Here it is! "Exceptional crossbreed
discovered in Lentua, Kuhmo.
Shot by local logger K. Pylkkonen.
Matti Ojasto BSc... describes
the "hazel cock" as a sensation-
and a revolutionary scientific
discovery.
Our paper will follow up on
the progress of the research.
Reuters has also reported on
the discovery worldwide."
So we put the name Kainuu
on the world map-
and Pylkkonen onto the lips
of every scientist.
The world of science has
gained a new hero.
I'll be darned.
Our Konsta is world famous.
"Logger K. Pylkkonen."
"Matti Ojasto BSc". No mention of you.
No Kronberg.
-Ah well...
Konsta Pylkkonen. Will you take
me with you to Kontiomoki?
So I'd get to see a train.
I might, if your parents agree.
Be a good boy.
-Yes.
Are you the heroes who shot
those hazel cocks?
Konsta Pylkkonen. He's world famous.
Five, six, seven hundred...
And here's another thousand.
Fair and square.
Really, you don't have to.
How will you feed your children
if you throw all your money into me?
Please, we insist.
A gift from me and Putte.
If there's more to come from
those birds, you'll get your share.
And you'll get your shooter's fee,
whatever it takes.
There should be some reward. Can't
let the museum have them for free.
What about those scales?
-Damn, I almost forgot.
I'll go buy the newspaper.
Put this in your pocket.
-What is it?
Ethanol. From Ojasto's big bottle.
I replaced it with some water.
But not a drop until the train has
left. Or Ojasto will skin me.
Save it for the sauna with Selmi.
-Sauna it is.
Famous throughout the country.
Famous throughout the world.
How about we just continue
trekking along the train tracks?
A bureaucrat's life is like
being in a fish trap.
You swim in and you
lose your freedom.
You'll come back next summer
and we'll do more research?
I might know of a couple
of more mongrels.
What? Really?
Seems I'm the world's
leading expert in the field.
If you write up any of those
dissertations, send me a couple.
Something to pass the evenings with.
I'd learn to dissertate too.
You bet!
The scholars of nature scuttled off.
Matti and Putte. Fine fellows.
Let's go.
There's thinking to do in Havukka.
I'll teach you.
We'll think. Strike down
the dictators and their shams.
Sink them in the bog and bang
them on the head with a ram.
We'll punch those devious devils
in the chin with our thoughts-
and thump them speechless.
Thoughts are free like a hawk.
They won't stay behind bobbed wire.
Thoughts can't be held in camps.
Thoughts have big wings.
Translation: Susan Heiskanen