The reindeer left the island for winter pasture a little over a month ago. My kids and I are missing them already.
“Guess what, Mommy? I know how to say ‘reindeer poop’ in three languages,” my five-year old said, as we strolled down the street, passing a large pile of poo.
“Oh really. Let me hear it,” I said, wondering what third language she’d recently picked up.
“‘Reindeer poop‘ in English, ‘Reinsdyr bæsj’ in Norwegian, and ‘Rein skit‘ in Finnmarking (the local dialect).”
“Wow, that’s pretty amazing,” I said as she smiled proudly and continued dodging the poop/bæsj/skit scattered on the sidewalk.
Several thousand reindeer, owned by Sami reindeer herders, have summer pasture on the island we live on: Magerøya. They arrive in the Spring and leave in the Fall and by the middle of the Summer they’ve reached Honningsvåg. I’ve seen them hanging out in the grocery store parking lot, heard the clip-clop of their hooves outside our bedroom window, and caught them munching on my neighbor’s perennials.
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