The Three Billy Goats Gruff
“Trip, trap, trip, trap!” went the bridge.
“Who's that tripping over my bridge?” roared the troll .
“Oh, it is only I, the tiniest Billy Goat Gruff, and I'm going up to the hillside to make myself fat,” said the billy goat, with such a small voice.
Bridge and Tiny Goat in Three Billy Goats Gruff adapted for the stage from the Norwegian fairy tale collected by Peter Christen Asbjørnsen and Jørgen Moe
The Birmingham Children’s Theatre’s version of this classic tale is charming, and was created years ago by my friends Jean Pierce (book) and Jim Aycock (music). Three dauntless goats construct a bridge to explore the great wide world. But of course, a bullying Troll takes up residence under the bridge and schemes to eat them up. The trio must tame their trepidations and work together to outwit the demon dwarf and pursue their dreams. In fact, BCT just produced this fun show again last fall.
Because goats are bright, curious animals, this interpretation of the tale is right on target. The creatures’ inquisitive nature is evident in a relentless lust to explore, and in the thorough investigation of anything they encounter. We have some very friendly goats at Camp Winnataska, and in the off season, they roam around the grounds having great adventures — even crossing our iconic bridge. And they rarely encounter a Troll!
The Three Billy Goats Gruff of Camp Winnataska
What about bridges? They impart meanings beyond their literal job. A bridge gets us from one side of a creek, valley, road, or train track to the other, stretching horizontally between supports. Without this structure, the terrain would be difficult if not impossible to cross. So, we can think about a bridge a a symbol of hope and interconnection. Bridges link one lone place to another, permitting people to come face to face. In this way, bridges can be said to unite.
In literature, a bridge often represents connection or transition or the power to overcome difficulties. The structure, as in the case of the Rainbow — or even the Invisible — Bridge, is a link through space and time to a dear pet or to loved ones who have died, but with whom we still have bonds. Some meditation practitioners use the image of a bridge to reach out to the Divine.
But a bridge can be “Trollified": blocked or destroyed to refuse and discourage interaction between people or halt entry to places on one side or the other. The Black Belt of Alabama long ago had a bridge in the form of a 10-minute ferry which crossed a curve in the Alabama River between predominantly black Gee’s Bend and then mostly white Camden.
In the middle of the Civil Rights protests of the 1960s, a Troll, in the form of White Supremacy, effected the disappearance of the ferry, precipitating an hour drive to circumvent the river. And the residents of Gee’s Bend had mighty few cars. The situation separated the communities, and isolated the blacks. In the year 2006, the ferry service was reactivated, and is running today. The ferry once again bridges the two communities.
So, you might ask, what is the reason for thinking about bridges, Trolls, and the sweet little Billy Goats Gruff? I recently met the Troll! And it was not a pleasant experience, but the incident engendered in me quite an affinity with curly horned furry creatures who are bullied.
Over the past New Year’s holiday, Roger and I visited a spot we love on the Forgotten Coast of Florida. Back in 2015, we found a cozy little bed and breakfast and we have gone back six more times, often to celebrate the calendar turn from one year to the next. The inn is right across the street from the Gulf of Mexico, and we travel up a little sandy alleyway and cross a wooden structure to the wondrous sight of the beach. That is, we did until this year.
As we were sauntering toward the seashore on the late afternoon before our morning departure, a Troll who had taken the form of an extremely unhealthy, disintegrated man-like creature waylaid us and asked where we were staying. When we responded, he said with a certain amount of glee, “Oh, trip-trap, trip-trap, you can’t use this bridge!” Apparently he had gotten into a battle with the owner of the inn, and abruptly (through a lawsuit) halted his guests from using this passage to the beach — after 20 years of cooperation from the previous owners of the adjacent house.
We locked horns with the bully briefly, but decided to go back to St. Joe’s Bay behind our guest house to watch the sun set. As we walked around the area, and drove to dinner later, I looked over and the Troll was silhouetted by the red sky, still sitting on the boardwalk rail with his legs blocking any future Billy Goats Gruff from the inn who might want to storm his barricade. And I had to think: what a sad, controlling life he must lead, obsessed with intimidating and tyrannizing — of all people — folks who want to walk on the beach.