Santa's Tipsy Reindeer
by Alasdair McPherson
Genre: Children
Swearwords: None.
Description: A wee Christmas story.
Swearwords: None.
Description: A wee Christmas story.
It was dad who first noticed that something strange was going on. We live in a big, old farmhouse with no near neighbours so he always sleeps with one ear open, he says, in case a fox gets into the henhouse.
He and mum sleep at the back of the house overlooking the barn, so he went to the window expecting to spot a bushy-tailed animal sneaking across the orchard causing a rumpus amongst the poultry.
There was a rumpus alright but it was in the orchard where six reindeer were staggering about bumping into each other and dragging a large sledge over the rough ground.
“They’ve been at the windfalls,” he thought as he took in the scene below him.
That was when he noticed a short, rather plump man dressed in a red cloak with a red hat in one hand while he scratched his grey hair with the other.
It was only then that dad remembered that this was Christmas Eve. He had to take several deep breaths while he recognised that Santa Claus was standing in our orchard and that his team of reindeer were tipsy, staggering about like Aunt Aggie after her third glass of sherry at family dinners.
We always leave the windfall apples and pears in the grass under the trees in the orchard. When the fruit begins to decay the sugar turns to alcohol. There is too little to do more than make field mice and garden birds happy but we have to keep the sheep and cows away.
One year when a ram got in and ate its fill it became confused and started to butt its head against the stone gate post – it probably thought it was an intruder.
Now Santa’s reindeer had eaten all the fallen fruit and had lost their sense of direction bumping into each other and tangling their horns with low branches on the fruit trees.
Dad got dressed and went down to the orchard while mum came and woke Emma and me. I’m Jack and she’s my twin sister. We’re what they call fraternal twins and we look nothing like each other – thank goodness! Emma is really bossy but I was born seven minutes before she was, so she has to keep her place behind me.
Mum made us get dressed while she told us all she knew. Of course, we realised how serious it was for Santa to be stranded in our orchard with his drunk reindeer but we couldn’t help laughing at their antics.
Dad’s hobby is driving coaches pulled by six horses in competitions, so he knew how to unharness the animals from the sledge and disentangle the traces – the leather straps that attach them to the sled. Santa was still in shock but he was able to help in tethering Prancer and the rest to fence posts far enough apart to stop them knocking into each other.
Dad sent Emma and me to the barn to bring the food pellets we feed to our team of six horses.
“The food will help to sober them up,” he told Santa. “But it’s going to be hours before they’re fit to fly.”
“I don’t have hours,” the little man replied, looking very sad – not at all like the pictures of him smiling and laughing and shouting ‘Oh-ho-ho!’
“I’d lend you my team of six horses,” dad joked. “They can’t fly but they do gallop really fast.
Santa looked thoughtful for a moment: “Would you really lend them to me? Don’t worry about them flying – I can easily arrange that.”
When dad nodded, Santa’s face lit up and he looked even happier than he does in his pictures.
Dad sent us all indoors while he prepared his team of horses with the yokes and leather straps connecting them together leading back to the reins that normally lie over the front of the coach so the driver can steer. The six horses were looking back in amazement for tonight they were going to pull a sledge, and not just any sledge!
Mum offered Santa a drink and he asked for hot chocolate because, he said, he has a terrible sweet tooth. She put in plenty of little marshmallows because she has a sweet tooth as well.
I was still trying to get my head round the fact that Santa’s reindeer were grounded in our orchard and the man himself was sitting in our kitchen chatting to our mum!
Emma had disappeared through to our living room and I could tell there was a storm brewing when she burst back into the kitchen to confront Santa.
“Where are our presents?” she demanded. “I’ve just been to look and there’s nothing under our tree. It’s not fair after everything that dad’s doing for you!”
Dad called that the team was ready for its first flight before Santa could answer. He stood up, patted Emma on the head and went out into the orchard with his eyes twinkling.
We all trooped out into the moonlight to watch Santa climb onto the seat and take the reins. He gave them a little shake as if to say ‘ready?’ and the horses quietly whinnied their approval. The old man raised his red hat to salute mum and then he pulled it down over his eyes, gave the reins a shake and they were off. The first step was on the ground of the orchard but by the third pace the horses were clear of the tree tops.
The reindeer had quietened down a lot and I thought they looked ashamed of themselves but Emma told me not to be stupid. We gave then more food and covered them with horse blankets before mum made us come inside and go back to bed. Emma and I protested but I fell asleep as soon as my head touched the pillow and Emma told me in the morning that it was the same for her.
We were up early – it was Christmas morning after all – and my first thought was to see if the reindeer were alright. The orchard was empty and there were no hoof-prints in the grass. The feeding bowls and blankets had been tidied away and the six horses were quietly eating in their stalls. They turned their heads to look at Emma and me and I’m almost sure that Hamish, the lead horse, gave me a wink.
We went back inside to find that all the presents we wanted were nestling at the foot of the Christmas tree in the living room. We found a few extra presents that Santa had left to say ‘thanks’.
We had a great Christmas day with all the family around to celebrate with us and it wasn’t until the winter sun was sinking that I had time for another look around the paddock. I wandered about for some minutes but I could still see no sign of our visitors. Then in the last ray before the sun slid below the horizon, I noticed something glinting in the grass at the foot of a pear tree and I bent to look more closely.
It was a little silver bell that had once decorated the harness of one of Santa’s reindeer.
He and mum sleep at the back of the house overlooking the barn, so he went to the window expecting to spot a bushy-tailed animal sneaking across the orchard causing a rumpus amongst the poultry.
There was a rumpus alright but it was in the orchard where six reindeer were staggering about bumping into each other and dragging a large sledge over the rough ground.
“They’ve been at the windfalls,” he thought as he took in the scene below him.
That was when he noticed a short, rather plump man dressed in a red cloak with a red hat in one hand while he scratched his grey hair with the other.
It was only then that dad remembered that this was Christmas Eve. He had to take several deep breaths while he recognised that Santa Claus was standing in our orchard and that his team of reindeer were tipsy, staggering about like Aunt Aggie after her third glass of sherry at family dinners.
We always leave the windfall apples and pears in the grass under the trees in the orchard. When the fruit begins to decay the sugar turns to alcohol. There is too little to do more than make field mice and garden birds happy but we have to keep the sheep and cows away.
One year when a ram got in and ate its fill it became confused and started to butt its head against the stone gate post – it probably thought it was an intruder.
Now Santa’s reindeer had eaten all the fallen fruit and had lost their sense of direction bumping into each other and tangling their horns with low branches on the fruit trees.
Dad got dressed and went down to the orchard while mum came and woke Emma and me. I’m Jack and she’s my twin sister. We’re what they call fraternal twins and we look nothing like each other – thank goodness! Emma is really bossy but I was born seven minutes before she was, so she has to keep her place behind me.
Mum made us get dressed while she told us all she knew. Of course, we realised how serious it was for Santa to be stranded in our orchard with his drunk reindeer but we couldn’t help laughing at their antics.
Dad’s hobby is driving coaches pulled by six horses in competitions, so he knew how to unharness the animals from the sledge and disentangle the traces – the leather straps that attach them to the sled. Santa was still in shock but he was able to help in tethering Prancer and the rest to fence posts far enough apart to stop them knocking into each other.
Dad sent Emma and me to the barn to bring the food pellets we feed to our team of six horses.
“The food will help to sober them up,” he told Santa. “But it’s going to be hours before they’re fit to fly.”
“I don’t have hours,” the little man replied, looking very sad – not at all like the pictures of him smiling and laughing and shouting ‘Oh-ho-ho!’
“I’d lend you my team of six horses,” dad joked. “They can’t fly but they do gallop really fast.
Santa looked thoughtful for a moment: “Would you really lend them to me? Don’t worry about them flying – I can easily arrange that.”
When dad nodded, Santa’s face lit up and he looked even happier than he does in his pictures.
Dad sent us all indoors while he prepared his team of horses with the yokes and leather straps connecting them together leading back to the reins that normally lie over the front of the coach so the driver can steer. The six horses were looking back in amazement for tonight they were going to pull a sledge, and not just any sledge!
Mum offered Santa a drink and he asked for hot chocolate because, he said, he has a terrible sweet tooth. She put in plenty of little marshmallows because she has a sweet tooth as well.
I was still trying to get my head round the fact that Santa’s reindeer were grounded in our orchard and the man himself was sitting in our kitchen chatting to our mum!
Emma had disappeared through to our living room and I could tell there was a storm brewing when she burst back into the kitchen to confront Santa.
“Where are our presents?” she demanded. “I’ve just been to look and there’s nothing under our tree. It’s not fair after everything that dad’s doing for you!”
Dad called that the team was ready for its first flight before Santa could answer. He stood up, patted Emma on the head and went out into the orchard with his eyes twinkling.
We all trooped out into the moonlight to watch Santa climb onto the seat and take the reins. He gave them a little shake as if to say ‘ready?’ and the horses quietly whinnied their approval. The old man raised his red hat to salute mum and then he pulled it down over his eyes, gave the reins a shake and they were off. The first step was on the ground of the orchard but by the third pace the horses were clear of the tree tops.
The reindeer had quietened down a lot and I thought they looked ashamed of themselves but Emma told me not to be stupid. We gave then more food and covered them with horse blankets before mum made us come inside and go back to bed. Emma and I protested but I fell asleep as soon as my head touched the pillow and Emma told me in the morning that it was the same for her.
We were up early – it was Christmas morning after all – and my first thought was to see if the reindeer were alright. The orchard was empty and there were no hoof-prints in the grass. The feeding bowls and blankets had been tidied away and the six horses were quietly eating in their stalls. They turned their heads to look at Emma and me and I’m almost sure that Hamish, the lead horse, gave me a wink.
We went back inside to find that all the presents we wanted were nestling at the foot of the Christmas tree in the living room. We found a few extra presents that Santa had left to say ‘thanks’.
We had a great Christmas day with all the family around to celebrate with us and it wasn’t until the winter sun was sinking that I had time for another look around the paddock. I wandered about for some minutes but I could still see no sign of our visitors. Then in the last ray before the sun slid below the horizon, I noticed something glinting in the grass at the foot of a pear tree and I bent to look more closely.
It was a little silver bell that had once decorated the harness of one of Santa’s reindeer.
About the Author
Originally from Dalmuir, Alasdair McPherson is now retired and living in exile in Lincolnshire.
He says he has always wanted to write, but life got in the way until recently. He has already penned eleven novels and many short stories. His eight latest novels – The Island, Pilgrimage of Grace, Desert Ark, Swordsmiths, Loyalty, Killing Cousins, Damaged Lives and Patriotism – are all McStorytellers publications.
You can read Alasdair's full profile on McVoices.
He says he has always wanted to write, but life got in the way until recently. He has already penned eleven novels and many short stories. His eight latest novels – The Island, Pilgrimage of Grace, Desert Ark, Swordsmiths, Loyalty, Killing Cousins, Damaged Lives and Patriotism – are all McStorytellers publications.
You can read Alasdair's full profile on McVoices.