Near Immalanjärvi lake is Karjukallio [Boar Hill], assumed to have been named after the wild boar roaming in the area. One interpretation claims that the rock was named after a boar that escaped from a nearby farm and climbed to the top to sunbathe.
Once upon a time there was a gloomy boar. All day, the boar lay in his sty, and if he did anything at all, he ate, or else just lolled on his muddy mattress. Nothing interested him, not the grunting of the other pigs, not the young piglets climbing on his snout, not the rooting for and munching the tasty potato peelings, turnip halves, fish guts and other scraps of food. He was too lazy to shake off the horse flies and other insects buzzing around him. Every day, he just lay there, lolled about, staring through half-open eyes at some distant emptiness, a swarm of dung beetles over his head. The boar’s massive bulk had seized up like an erratic boulder in the slurry.
The farmer had seen the change in the boar, which up to now had been like a beast should be. Time for a change, thought the farmer, and decided that the coming Christmas would see a hearty slaughter party.
But to make sure the boar would provide something to eat other than hide and fat, the farmer set about reorganising the sty. In order to eat, the pig would now be forced to use his skinny legs a little and stretch his fat, lumpy neck. The farmer positioned titbits around the edges of the sty, so the boar had to take a bit of trouble to devour them. The water he divided into smaller bowls. When one runs dry, the pig must take a step or two. The clever farmer even hung odd bits and bobs left over from building work from the roof joists of the sty. It would give the pig something to gawp at in any spare time left over from looking for food.
For a time, the boar was unsure about the new look of the sty, but then he began to settle in. With the others, he plodded to get titbits, rooted around in the earth, stretched his neck, and realised what fun it was to compete with the others over the contents of the bowls. Having eaten, he crashed down on the soft floor of the sty and peered at the objects hanging from the ceiling.
Now everything in the boar’s life changed. He became more agile, cheered up, and began to look about in a new way. Soon he spotted a steep rocky hill nearby, upon which the sun’s ray settled so pleasantly in the morning and hid as the evening turned to night. He was overcome with an inexplicable longing for freedom.
One beautiful morning, the boar leapt out of the sty and trotted off towards the top of the rock. The sun stroked his thick hide covered in thin fluff, intoxicating smells filled his snout. From his high vantage point, the boar looked down at his former life, which evaporated like the morning mist giving way to a new day.
Picture on the top of the page: Anni Jokitalo
Transl. Annira Silver
Location on map
The story and the pictures are a part of Tarinajoki book (River of Stories), made in Rural Explorer project. As part of a culture tourism project, stories arising from the body of folk narratives and history also have a function in relation to the productisation of tourism. The stories are linked to real locations.