Baba Yaga

Somewhere in great wide Russia (exactly where, nobody can say) a peasant lived with his wife and their twins, a boy and a girl. Then the wife died, and the man grieved for her truly, for a long while. A year went by, then two, then more. He struggled to manage the household and at last thought, “If I married again, things might come right.” So he did, and his second wife gave him more children.

The stepmother was jealous of the twins and treated them harshly. She scolded them for no reason, sent them out of the house whenever she pleased, and gave them barely enough food. In the end she wanted to be rid of them for good. Rather than seek help or change how she treated them, the stepmother planned a further act of cruelty. She decided to send the children to the witch, sure that they would not come back.

“Dear children,” she said sweetly, “go and visit my grandmother, who lives in the forest in a hut on hen’s legs. Do whatever she asks and she will give you sweets, and you’ll be very happy.”

The twins set off. But the sister, a clever little girl, did not head for the witch. She took her brother’s hand and ran to their own old grandmother instead, and told her everything.

“Oh, my poor darlings,” said the kind old woman. “My heart aches for you, but I haven’t the power to save you. You aren’t going to a loving granny; you’re going to a wicked witch. Now listen to my advice. Be kind and good to everyone. Don’t say unkind words to anybody. Never think yourself too grand to help the weakest creature, and always trust that help will come to you too when you need it.” She gave them fresh milk to drink, a big slice of ham each and some cookies, and when they left she stood watching them go for a long, long time.

The children did as they were told and went into the forest, and there, sure enough, stood the strangest hut. It perched on tiny hen’s feet and had a rooster’s head on its roof. In their high little voices they called out, “Little hut, little hut, turn your back to the forest and your front to us!” The hut turned round.

Peeping in, they saw the witch lying there with her head by the doorway, one foot in one corner, the other foot in another, and her knees poking up almost to the roof beam. “Phew, phew!” she cried. “I smell a Russian!” The children huddled close together, frightened, but they spoke politely. “Good day, granny. Our stepmother has sent us to work for you.” “Very well, I don’t mind keeping you. Do everything I ask and I’ll reward you. If you don’t, I’ll eat you up.”

Straight away she set the girl to spin thread and the boy to fill a huge tub with water, carrying it in a sieve. The girl sat at the spinning wheel crying and wiping her tears. At once little mice came squeaking all round her. “Don’t cry, sweet girl. Give us some cookies and we’ll help you.” She gladly shared them. “Now,” squeaked the grateful mice, “go and find the black cat. He’s very hungry. Give him a slice of ham and he’ll help you.”

As she hurried off to look for the cat, she found her brother in despair beside the tub. He had filled the sieve again and again, but the tub was still dry. Some little birds flew past and chirped, “Kind children, give us some crumbs and we’ll give you advice.” The twins scattered crumbs, and the birds sang, “Clay and water, children dear!” and flew away. The children understood. They plastered the holes of the sieve with clay and filled the tub in no time.

On the doorstep of the hut they met the black cat. They shared their good ham with him, stroked him and asked, “Dear kitty, black and pretty, tell us how to get away from your mistress the witch.” The cat answered seriously, “I’ll give you a towel and a comb, and then you must run. When you hear the witch chasing you, throw the towel behind you and it will turn into a wide river. If you hear her again, throw down the comb and it will turn into a thick dark forest. That forest will keep you safe from her.”

Just then Baba Yaga came home. “Well, isn’t that remarkable,” she thought. “Everything is done just right.” “You were brave and quick today,” she told the children. “We’ll see about tomorrow. Tomorrow’s work will be harder, and I hope I’ll get to eat you.”

That night the twins did not sleep in a warm bed made by loving hands but on straw in a cold corner, so scared they hardly dared to talk or even breathe. In the morning the witch ordered them to weave all the linen and bring in a great pile of firewood from the forest. But they took the towel and comb and ran as fast as their legs would go. The witch’s dogs rushed after them, so they threw the dogs their last cookies. The gates would not open, so they rubbed the hinges with oil. A birch tree beside the path nearly scratched their eyes out, so the gentle girl tied a pretty ribbon on its branches. On and on they ran, out of the dark forest into wide sunny fields.

Meanwhile the cat sat at the loom tearing the thread to bits, enjoying every moment. Baba Yaga came back. “Where are the children?” she screamed, and beat the cat. “Why did you let them go, you traitor? Why didn’t you scratch their faces?” “Because I’ve served you all these years and you never gave me a single bite,” said the cat, “and those dear children gave me good ham.”

The witch shouted at the dogs, the gates and the birch tree. “You’re our mistress, all right,” barked the dogs, “but you’ve never done us a kindness, and the children were kind to us.” “We always obeyed you,” creaked the gates, “but you neglected us, and the dear children oiled us.” The birch tree rustled its leaves. “You never hung so much as a plain thread on my branches, and those little darlings decorated me with a pretty ribbon.”

Baba Yaga saw that nobody would help her, so she set off after the children herself. She was in such a rush that she forgot to look for the towel and comb, and she simply jumped astride her broom and flew off. When the twins heard her coming, they threw down the towel behind them, and at once a wide blue river spread across the field. Baba Yaga hopped up and down the bank until at last she found a shallow place and crossed. When the children heard her coming again, they threw down the comb, and a forest sprang up, so dark and dense that its roots were knotted together, its branches tangled and its treetops touching. The witch tried and tried to force her way through, but it was no use, and at last she went home in a fury.

The twins ran to their father and told him all their troubles. They finished by asking, “Oh, father, why do you love us less than our brothers and sisters?” Their father was deeply moved, and angry too. He sent the wicked stepmother away and began a new life with his good children, and after that he watched over their happiness and took care of them always.

How do I know this story is true? Why, someone who was there told me.

Where this story comes from

“Baba Yaga” is the sixth tale in Verra Xenophontovna Kalamatiano de Blumenthal’s Folk Tales from the Russian (Project Gutenberg #12851). Blumenthal’s notes gloss the name for her readers as ‘Grandmother Witch.’ That is the edition’s explanation, rather than a complete linguistic history of the name. She also notes that izba means a hut and izboushka a tiny hut. That is the word the children use when they ask the hut on hen’s feet to turn round.

In this version, Baba Yaga is defeated through a chain of kindnesses, practical advice and magical obstacles. The grandmother’s cookies and ham feed the mice and the cat, oil softens the gates, and a ribbon wins over the birch tree. Each helper later explains to the witch why it changed sides. The joking last line about how the teller knows the story is true comes from Blumenthal.

Read the original: Verra Xenophontovna Kalamatiano de Blumenthal, Folk Tales from the Russian (Project Gutenberg #12851)

Best for ages 9–12 with adult discussion. Includes neglect, a guardian sending children toward danger, threats to eat them and a frightening chase. Their kindness earns help in the tale; children do not have to please a threatening adult to deserve safety.

Reading the story closely

The helpers name their own reasons for refusing Baba Yaga: hunger, neglect and lack of care. Her household changes sides because the twins treat its members differently, not because the witch suddenly loses magical strength. The river delays her, while the forest finally stops her; those obstacles serve distinct roles in the escape.

Make a chain linking each gift or action to the help it brings, including the birds’ clay advice and the cat’s two objects. Then return to the children’s final question to their father. Their escape does not excuse his earlier failure to notice their treatment, and the ending makes continuing care his task.

Questions to ask

• What advice does the twins’ real grandmother give them, and where in the story do they follow it?
• Why does each helper (the cat, the dogs, the gates and the birch tree) decide to let the children go?
• If you had to escape from Baba Yaga, which magic gift would you want, the towel or the comb, and why?

You may also like

• Vasilisa the Beautiful — another Russian girl who survives a stay with Baba Yaga
• Father Frost — a darker Blumenthal tale about two girls exposed to winter cold
• The Tsarevna Frog — Baba Yaga helps a prince in another Russian tale