Christmas Monsters
All info found https://allthatsinteresting.com/christmas-legends
Krampus The Christmas Devil
As the legend goes, Krampus is a devil with goats’ hooves, pointed horns, and a long, snake-like tongue who roams through the Tyrolean mountains in the Alps along with his perchten, an army of nasty, foul-tempered elves who delight in punishing children.
On the evening of Krampusnacht, or December 5, Krampus ventures home to home with his companion, St. Nicholas — yes, Santa apparently used to hang out with demons — doling out punishment to naughty children, miscreants, and drunks.
A half-goat demon said to be the son of the Norse god of the underworld, Krampus punishes naughty children at Christmastime — and drags some to hell.
In many versions of the legend, Krampus carries with him a large bundle of branches which he uses to whip naughty children, presumably so that they might behave better in the next year. In some stories, though, Krampus kidnaps the misbehaving children — and they are never seen again.
Naturally, the threat of a visit from Krampus was offered up by parents who wanted to keep their kids in line.
As could be expected, Krampus was likely not a creation of Christians, but rather a long-held Pagan symbol that was later altered to fall more in line with Christian beliefs.
Perhaps the most convincing piece of evidence for this is the Krampus Parade itself, which traditionally saw people parading through the streets in the guise of Krampus and the perchten as a way to scare off evil Christmas spirits.
Even his name comes from the German word krampen, meaning “claw,” and his appearance bears a striking resemblance to descriptions of the son of the Norse goddess of the Underworld, Hel.
When Christianity swept through the Alps, many Pagan tales were reconstructed to suit Christian ideals, and it’s possible that the legend of Krampus was among them.
The Kallikantzaroi, The Greek Christmas Goblins Trying To End The World
During the 12 days of Christmas, beware, for the Kallikantzaroi may emerge from their homes at the center of the Earth to wreak havoc and cause mischief after the sun sets.
These foul, ugly beings will break into your home, urinate on your plants, cause your food to spoil, smash furniture, and generally be a proper nuisance if you aren’t careful. At least, that’s what Greek folklore tells us.
According to SPIEGEL International, legend claims that the Kallikantzaroi roam the Earth between Christmas Day and January 6, the day of the Epiphany in Christianity.
During this time, the Earth’s waters are allegedly “unbaptized” or “unclean,” allowing the despicable creatures to surface and cause damage wherever they go.
Descriptions of their appearance vary widely, from ugly, human-like creatures with iron clogs to short, hairy goblins with monkey arms and cleft hooves. The one commonality among these descriptions? The Kallikantzaroi are hideous.
Their diet reportedly consists of unsavory items like insects, snakes, mice, and rotten fruit. As servants of the Devil, they fear holy water, religious icons, and fire.
They also are said to take commands from a creature they call their “mother,” who decides which humans will be subjected to the Kallikantzaroi’s mischievous deeds.
Some Greek families have even hung the lower jaw of a pig behind the front door or inside their chimneys to keep the Kallikantzaroi at bay, while others swear that hanging a tangled strand of flax will cause the dimwitted creatures to pause and count each thread until sunrise instead of attacking.
However, the surest way to protect your home from the Kallikantzaroi is to light a fire, though burning an old leather shoe allegedly offers extra protection — as the smell is enough to deter even the foulest of creatures.
These foul, ugly beings will break into your home, urinate on your plants, cause your food to spoil, smash furniture, and generally be a proper nuisance if you aren’t careful. At least, that’s what Greek folklore tells us.
According to SPIEGEL International, legend claims that the Kallikantzaroi roam the Earth between Christmas Day and January 6, the day of the Epiphany in Christianity.
During this time, the Earth’s waters are allegedly “unbaptized” or “unclean,” allowing the despicable creatures to surface and cause damage wherever they go.
Descriptions of their appearance vary widely, from ugly, human-like creatures with iron clogs to short, hairy goblins with monkey arms and cleft hooves. The one commonality among these descriptions? The Kallikantzaroi are hideous.
Their diet reportedly consists of unsavory items like insects, snakes, mice, and rotten fruit. As servants of the Devil, they fear holy water, religious icons, and fire.
They also are said to take commands from a creature they call their “mother,” who decides which humans will be subjected to the Kallikantzaroi’s mischievous deeds.
Some Greek families have even hung the lower jaw of a pig behind the front door or inside their chimneys to keep the Kallikantzaroi at bay, while others swear that hanging a tangled strand of flax will cause the dimwitted creatures to pause and count each thread until sunrise instead of attacking.
However, the surest way to protect your home from the Kallikantzaroi is to light a fire, though burning an old leather shoe allegedly offers extra protection — as the smell is enough to deter even the foulest of creatures.
Jólakötturinn, or The Yule Cat, An Icelandic Monster That Eats Children
Don’t let the name Yule Cat fool you — this Icelandic creature of folklore is nothing like a kitten you would welcome to your home. For starters, it wouldn’t even fit.
According to Smithsonian Magazine, the legend of the Yule Cat, or Jólakötturinn, is a creature that towers over forests and homes, prowling about Iceland on Christmas night in search of bad children to devour.
How does it know which children are bad, though? Unlike the omniscience attributed to Santa, the Yule Cat’s judgment comes down to a single, simple test: If a child has received new clothing for Christmas, they have been good. If they haven’t, they are bad – and fair game to be eaten.
It may seem like a strange test, but in Icelandic tradition, children who completed their chores before Christmas were often rewarded with new clothing. Following that logic, it stands to reason that children who didn’t receive new clothes didn’t complete their chores, meaning they were disobedient and deserved punishment.
And if the threat of the Yule Cat weren’t enough, it’s not the only hungry, child-eating monster that lurks in the Icelandic wilderness around Christmastime.
The Yule Cat’s owner, the monstrous giantess Gryla, has an equally twisted appetite — and her 13 ghoulish sons, the Yule Lads, are always close at hand.
Don’t let the name Yule Cat fool you — this Icelandic creature of folklore is nothing like a kitten you would welcome to your home. For starters, it wouldn’t even fit.
According to Smithsonian Magazine, the legend of the Yule Cat, or Jólakötturinn, is a creature that towers over forests and homes, prowling about Iceland on Christmas night in search of bad children to devour.
How does it know which children are bad, though? Unlike the omniscience attributed to Santa, the Yule Cat’s judgment comes down to a single, simple test: If a child has received new clothing for Christmas, they have been good. If they haven’t, they are bad – and fair game to be eaten.
It may seem like a strange test, but in Icelandic tradition, children who completed their chores before Christmas were often rewarded with new clothing. Following that logic, it stands to reason that children who didn’t receive new clothes didn’t complete their chores, meaning they were disobedient and deserved punishment.
And if the threat of the Yule Cat weren’t enough, it’s not the only hungry, child-eating monster that lurks in the Icelandic wilderness around Christmastime.
The Yule Cat’s owner, the monstrous giantess Gryla, has an equally twisted appetite — and her 13 ghoulish sons, the Yule Lads, are always close at hand.
Gryla And The Yule Lads, The Child-Eating Giants Of Iceland
As another Icelandic legend holds, on the far north of the island resides a witch named Gryla, owner of the Jólakötturinn and mother to 13 giants of Icelandic folklore.
In some stories, Gryla is a troll, an ogre, or a giantess, but if there is any consistency to her portrayal, it is that she is most certainly always evil.
Legend maintains that throughout the year, Gryla listens to the whispers of children on the wind, collecting information about the children who misbehave. When winter comes, Gryla leaves her cave and sets out to find her victims.
Her appetite is insatiable, and as she gathers up the bad children and stuffs them into a large sack. Back at her lair, she dumps the children into a large pot and boils them into a stew, which fills her up long enough to last until the next winter.
Living with Gryla in her cave are her husband, the pathetic troll Leppaludi, their pet, the Yule Cat, and Gryla’s 13 sons, collectively known as the Yule Lads.
Unlike their mother, however, the Yule Lads don’t feast on the flesh of children — evidently, cannibalism was not a genetic trait — and over the years, they have actually become less scary and much more interested in revelry.
Their foul and off-putting behaviors range from tormenting sheep, drinking milk straight from cows’ udders, licking spoons, slamming doors, and peeping in windows.
As another Icelandic legend holds, on the far north of the island resides a witch named Gryla, owner of the Jólakötturinn and mother to 13 giants of Icelandic folklore.
In some stories, Gryla is a troll, an ogre, or a giantess, but if there is any consistency to her portrayal, it is that she is most certainly always evil.
Legend maintains that throughout the year, Gryla listens to the whispers of children on the wind, collecting information about the children who misbehave. When winter comes, Gryla leaves her cave and sets out to find her victims.
Her appetite is insatiable, and as she gathers up the bad children and stuffs them into a large sack. Back at her lair, she dumps the children into a large pot and boils them into a stew, which fills her up long enough to last until the next winter.
Living with Gryla in her cave are her husband, the pathetic troll Leppaludi, their pet, the Yule Cat, and Gryla’s 13 sons, collectively known as the Yule Lads.
Unlike their mother, however, the Yule Lads don’t feast on the flesh of children — evidently, cannibalism was not a genetic trait — and over the years, they have actually become less scary and much more interested in revelry.
Their foul and off-putting behaviors range from tormenting sheep, drinking milk straight from cows’ udders, licking spoons, slamming doors, and peeping in windows.
Stekkjarstaur (Sheep-Cote Clod): Harasses sheep.
Þvörusleikir (Spoon-Licker): Licks spoons.
Hurðaskellir (Door-Slammer): Slams doors.
Skyrgámur (Skyr-Gobbler): Eats Icelandic yogurt.
Gluggagægir (Window-Peeper): Peeks in windows.
Gáttaþefur (Doorway-Sniffer): Sniffs for baked goods.
Ketkrókur (Meat-Hook): Steals meat.
KertasnÃkir (Candle-Beggar): Follows light
Þvörusleikir (Spoon-Licker): Licks spoons.
Hurðaskellir (Door-Slammer): Slams doors.
Skyrgámur (Skyr-Gobbler): Eats Icelandic yogurt.
Gluggagægir (Window-Peeper): Peeks in windows.
Gáttaþefur (Doorway-Sniffer): Sniffs for baked goods.
Ketkrókur (Meat-Hook): Steals meat.
KertasnÃkir (Candle-Beggar): Follows light
Images of Gryla were once considered so frightening that they were outlawed as a scare tactic in the 18th century. Around that time, Icelandic parents actually changed the story and told children they would receive rotten potatoes if they were bad, as fear of being eaten by Gryla had become so great.
Père Fouettard, St. Nicholas’ Cannibalistic Friend Known As ‘The Whipping Father’
Here we meet another of Santa Claus’ less savory friends — Père Fouettard, or Father Whipper, another sort of anti-Santa who has a propensity for child-eating.
There are several legends that speak of Father Whipper, but one of the most common, originating sometime around 1150, involves an evil butcher who kidnapped three children.
In the story, the butcher murders the three children, slits their throats, carves their meat up, and places it to rest in a salting tub. St. Nicholas then arrives at the butcher’s shop, and the butcher offers the saint some of his finest meat — which, of course, is the meat of the recently murdered children.
St. Nicholas, however, in his wisdom, instead resurrects the children and sends them back to their homes. In his piety, St. Nicholas then offers the mad butcher a chance at redemption, and the murderer becomes Father Whipper, a traveling companion of the saint who whips bad children.
Another version of the story is a bit younger, dating back to the 1550s during the Siege of Metz as part of the war between Henry II of France and the Holy Roman Empire.
During the fighting, French locals constructed an effigy of the Holy Roman Emperor Charles V, set it on fire, and paraded it through the streets — after which, a group of tanners created the character of Father Whipper based on the appearance of the burnt effigy.
Generally, Père Fouettard is depicted as a disheveled old man in black robes, with long dark hair, holding a martinet which he is prepared to use on any misbehaving children he and his good friend Santa Claus may come across.
Hans Trapp, The Christmas Scarecrow That Terrorized Parts Of France
In the 1400s, there lived a wealthy and powerful man named Hans Trapp, who was well-known and feared in the French regions of Alsace and Lorraine. More than anything else, Trapp desired power, and so, the tale goes, he made a deal with the devil to get it.
News of Trapp’s Faustian bargain spread quickly, however, and drew the attention of the Pope — who then excommunicated Trapp, confiscating his wealth and land, and banishing him from Alsace.
The story of Hans Trapp was inspired by a real knight named Hans von Trotha, who cut off the water supply to the nearby town of Weissenburg after a dispute with the church.
Trapp made his new home in the Bavarian mountains of Germany, festering his evil desires and, eventually, acquiring a longing for the taste of human flesh. To satisfy this hunger, he crafted a disguise out of straw and waited by the roadside. To passersby, he looked like nothing more than a scarecrow.
One day, a young boy passed by the seemingly innocuous scarecrow, which suddenly sprang to life and grabbed him. Trapp, in his disguise, then stabbed the boy in the stomach with a sharpened stick and dragged the lifeless body back to his mountain lair.
There, he sliced the boy’s body into pieces and roasted it over a fire. In a stroke of divine intervention, however, Trapp never got to feast on the human meat as lightning took his life. But his spirit, supposedly, lived on.
Mythic though this tale is, the legend of Hans Trapp actually originated with a real man, a knight named Hans von Trotha, who lived from 1450 to 1503. Von Trotha commanded two castles in Palatine, but became embroiled in a disagreement with a local abbot over some of the items in one of them.
When the abbot refused to concede some of the property over to von Trotha, the knight constructed a dam that cut off the water supply to Weissenburg nearby. The dam was eventually destroyed, and, much like in the story of Hans Trapp, the Pope himself intervened and excommunicated von Trotha.
Von Trotha, however, continued to live a wealthy life in the French royal court, unlike his folktale counterpart. He also, as far as history can tell, did not eat the flesh of children.
Here we meet another of Santa Claus’ less savory friends — Père Fouettard, or Father Whipper, another sort of anti-Santa who has a propensity for child-eating.
There are several legends that speak of Father Whipper, but one of the most common, originating sometime around 1150, involves an evil butcher who kidnapped three children.
In the story, the butcher murders the three children, slits their throats, carves their meat up, and places it to rest in a salting tub. St. Nicholas then arrives at the butcher’s shop, and the butcher offers the saint some of his finest meat — which, of course, is the meat of the recently murdered children.
St. Nicholas, however, in his wisdom, instead resurrects the children and sends them back to their homes. In his piety, St. Nicholas then offers the mad butcher a chance at redemption, and the murderer becomes Father Whipper, a traveling companion of the saint who whips bad children.
Another version of the story is a bit younger, dating back to the 1550s during the Siege of Metz as part of the war between Henry II of France and the Holy Roman Empire.
During the fighting, French locals constructed an effigy of the Holy Roman Emperor Charles V, set it on fire, and paraded it through the streets — after which, a group of tanners created the character of Father Whipper based on the appearance of the burnt effigy.
Generally, Père Fouettard is depicted as a disheveled old man in black robes, with long dark hair, holding a martinet which he is prepared to use on any misbehaving children he and his good friend Santa Claus may come across.
In the 1400s, there lived a wealthy and powerful man named Hans Trapp, who was well-known and feared in the French regions of Alsace and Lorraine. More than anything else, Trapp desired power, and so, the tale goes, he made a deal with the devil to get it.
News of Trapp’s Faustian bargain spread quickly, however, and drew the attention of the Pope — who then excommunicated Trapp, confiscating his wealth and land, and banishing him from Alsace.
The story of Hans Trapp was inspired by a real knight named Hans von Trotha, who cut off the water supply to the nearby town of Weissenburg after a dispute with the church.
Trapp made his new home in the Bavarian mountains of Germany, festering his evil desires and, eventually, acquiring a longing for the taste of human flesh. To satisfy this hunger, he crafted a disguise out of straw and waited by the roadside. To passersby, he looked like nothing more than a scarecrow.
One day, a young boy passed by the seemingly innocuous scarecrow, which suddenly sprang to life and grabbed him. Trapp, in his disguise, then stabbed the boy in the stomach with a sharpened stick and dragged the lifeless body back to his mountain lair.
There, he sliced the boy’s body into pieces and roasted it over a fire. In a stroke of divine intervention, however, Trapp never got to feast on the human meat as lightning took his life. But his spirit, supposedly, lived on.
Mythic though this tale is, the legend of Hans Trapp actually originated with a real man, a knight named Hans von Trotha, who lived from 1450 to 1503. Von Trotha commanded two castles in Palatine, but became embroiled in a disagreement with a local abbot over some of the items in one of them.
When the abbot refused to concede some of the property over to von Trotha, the knight constructed a dam that cut off the water supply to Weissenburg nearby. The dam was eventually destroyed, and, much like in the story of Hans Trapp, the Pope himself intervened and excommunicated von Trotha.
Von Trotha, however, continued to live a wealthy life in the French royal court, unlike his folktale counterpart. He also, as far as history can tell, did not eat the flesh of children.
Mari Lwyd, The Gray Mare Of Welsh Folklore
In South Wales, old folk tales speak of a creature known as the Mari Lwyd, a shrouded being with the skeletal face of a horse and glowing eyes. The Mari Lwyd is said to have a propensity for rhyme schemes and ventured door to door during winter celebrations, inviting revelers to outwit it in a contest — and rewarding them with food and drink if they win.
Those who lose, however, must allow the Mari Lwyd to enter their homes and, in turn, supply it with food and drink.
According to Hyperallergic the modern tradition sees a troupe of revelers led by someone dressed as the Mari Lwyd, traveling house to house and challenging their neighbors to games of call-and-response rhyming known as a “pwnco.”
Much like the folkloric contest, rewards for the winners typically involve food and beverages.
The Mari Lwyd celebration occurs sometime between Christmas and New Year’s Eve, though there is no way of knowing which of those days it will appear at your door.
As for how this strange, terrifying tradition came to be, the origins are up for debate.
Atlas Obscura noted that the tradition of the Mari Lwyd seems to originate from pre-Christian pagan cultures, but over the years it has been adapted to support Christian interpretations as well.
In fact, though the Mari Lwyd is specific to Welsh culture, it shares many commonalities with other “white horse” characters in the ancient cultures of Europe, particularly the Celtic goddess Rhiannon.
In translation, Mari Lwyd is often taken to mean “gray mare,” though it is difficult to ascertain why the symbol may have been important to ancient cultures as other religious scholars have interpreted the name to mean “Holy Mary,” a reference to Christian lore.
Supposedly, they say, Mari Lwyd was a pregnant horse, cast out of the stables when Mary gave birth to Jesus, who travels in search of a place to birth her foal.
The legend’s true origins may be unknown, but the modern interpretation of the festivities has existed sporadically since at least the 1800s. It was even commemorated by Welsh poet Vernon Watkins in his 1941 poem, “The Ballad of the Mari Lwyd,” which begins:
In South Wales, old folk tales speak of a creature known as the Mari Lwyd, a shrouded being with the skeletal face of a horse and glowing eyes. The Mari Lwyd is said to have a propensity for rhyme schemes and ventured door to door during winter celebrations, inviting revelers to outwit it in a contest — and rewarding them with food and drink if they win.
Those who lose, however, must allow the Mari Lwyd to enter their homes and, in turn, supply it with food and drink.
According to Hyperallergic the modern tradition sees a troupe of revelers led by someone dressed as the Mari Lwyd, traveling house to house and challenging their neighbors to games of call-and-response rhyming known as a “pwnco.”
Much like the folkloric contest, rewards for the winners typically involve food and beverages.
The Mari Lwyd celebration occurs sometime between Christmas and New Year’s Eve, though there is no way of knowing which of those days it will appear at your door.
As for how this strange, terrifying tradition came to be, the origins are up for debate.
Atlas Obscura noted that the tradition of the Mari Lwyd seems to originate from pre-Christian pagan cultures, but over the years it has been adapted to support Christian interpretations as well.
In fact, though the Mari Lwyd is specific to Welsh culture, it shares many commonalities with other “white horse” characters in the ancient cultures of Europe, particularly the Celtic goddess Rhiannon.
In translation, Mari Lwyd is often taken to mean “gray mare,” though it is difficult to ascertain why the symbol may have been important to ancient cultures as other religious scholars have interpreted the name to mean “Holy Mary,” a reference to Christian lore.
Supposedly, they say, Mari Lwyd was a pregnant horse, cast out of the stables when Mary gave birth to Jesus, who travels in search of a place to birth her foal.
The legend’s true origins may be unknown, but the modern interpretation of the festivities has existed sporadically since at least the 1800s. It was even commemorated by Welsh poet Vernon Watkins in his 1941 poem, “The Ballad of the Mari Lwyd,” which begins:
Mari Lwyd, Horse of Frost, Star-horse, and White Horse of the Sea, is carried to us.
The Dead return.
Those Exiles carry her, they who seem holy and have put on corruption, they who seem corrupt and have put on holiness.
They strain against the door.
They strain towards the fire which fosters and warms the Living.
The Dead return.
Those Exiles carry her, they who seem holy and have put on corruption, they who seem corrupt and have put on holiness.
They strain against the door.
They strain towards the fire which fosters and warms the Living.
In any case, the vision of a spectral, skeletal horse prowling the streets on a cold winter night is enough to send shivers up the spine.
Frau Perchta, The Belly-Slitting Half-Demon Christmas Witch
Frau Perchta is another terrifying Christmas legend from the Alpine region of Europe, a Pagan goddess who creeps through the snow-covered forests of Austria and Germany during the 12 Days of Christmas.
Though she is malevolent, Perchta’s goal is a simple one: to ensure the locals are upholding their customs — and to kill those who aren’t.
When Perchta learns that someone has misbehaved during the year, legend says she enters their home as they sleep, rips open their stomach, and disembowels them.
In the empty stomach, she stuffs straw, rocks, and garbage before stitching her victim back up and moving onto the next.
“Perchta is a sinister figure,” wrote folklorist John B. Smith, “who punishes the slovenly, the idle, the greedy, the inquisitive.”
However, another folklore scholar and named Rebecca Beyer expressed to Vice that Perchta also has a unique duality about her.
“She is one of the many dual-faced goddesses, both fair and ugly, dark and light,” Beyer said. Frau Perchta’s name, it turns out, means “bright one,” referring to versions of the legend that refer to Perchta as Grandmother Winter, a youthful and white-as-snow goddess who brings the snowfall each winter.
Today, the legend of Frau Perchta lives on in the Perchtenlauf, which Beyer called “a masked procession full of noise-making, fireworks and people, generally men, dressed as terrible beasts with large horns. These perchent, or followers of Perchta, serve to frighten away the cold, evil spirits of winter by out ugly-ing them"
Frau Perchta is another terrifying Christmas legend from the Alpine region of Europe, a Pagan goddess who creeps through the snow-covered forests of Austria and Germany during the 12 Days of Christmas.
Though she is malevolent, Perchta’s goal is a simple one: to ensure the locals are upholding their customs — and to kill those who aren’t.
When Perchta learns that someone has misbehaved during the year, legend says she enters their home as they sleep, rips open their stomach, and disembowels them.
In the empty stomach, she stuffs straw, rocks, and garbage before stitching her victim back up and moving onto the next.
“Perchta is a sinister figure,” wrote folklorist John B. Smith, “who punishes the slovenly, the idle, the greedy, the inquisitive.”
However, another folklore scholar and named Rebecca Beyer expressed to Vice that Perchta also has a unique duality about her.
“She is one of the many dual-faced goddesses, both fair and ugly, dark and light,” Beyer said. Frau Perchta’s name, it turns out, means “bright one,” referring to versions of the legend that refer to Perchta as Grandmother Winter, a youthful and white-as-snow goddess who brings the snowfall each winter.
Today, the legend of Frau Perchta lives on in the Perchtenlauf, which Beyer called “a masked procession full of noise-making, fireworks and people, generally men, dressed as terrible beasts with large horns. These perchent, or followers of Perchta, serve to frighten away the cold, evil spirits of winter by out ugly-ing them"
Belsnickel, The Crotchety Fur-Clad Christmas Figure From Germany
Belsnickel is a common folk legend among Dutch populations, originally hailing from Germany and brought over to America by immigrants, making it common among the Pennsylvania Dutch in particular, according to Penn Live.
Think of Belsnickel as a sort of cross between St. Nick and Krampus — in fact, the name Belsnickel comes from the German word “bels,” which translates to fur, and “nickel,” referring to St. Nicholas.
Belsnickel covers his face with coal and wears animal furs with large deer horns, and he visits children in late December to ask them if they have been bad or good.
Of course, the question is just a formality for, like Santa, Belsnickel already knows.
Unlike other companions of St. Nicholas, Belsnickel travels alone. The first sign that Belsnickel is near is a tapping on the windows caused by the switches he carries as he sneaks through the dark. If you didn’t hear the tapping, however, fear not — the second sign is far more difficult to miss.
Suddenly, the front door will burst open and Belsnickel will stand before you in his tattered clothing, speaking in a gravelly voice as he moves about the room in a spastic manner.
And as Belsnickel asks the children if they have been naughty or nice, the loud thwack of his bundle of switches serves as a reminder of what will happen to the children who have been naughty.
In his other hand, he holds small treats for good children, usually small cakes, candies, and nuts.
But a visit from Belsnickel is not the end of the Yuletide season — in fact, it is usually just the beginning. Though he may appear to punish bad children like Krampus, Belsnickel actually serves as a reminder that those children still have a few days left to turn their act around before St. Nicholas and Krampus visit their homes.
In other words, if a child is still misbehaving by the time Krampus arrives, they have been adequately warned.
Belsnickel is a common folk legend among Dutch populations, originally hailing from Germany and brought over to America by immigrants, making it common among the Pennsylvania Dutch in particular, according to Penn Live.
Think of Belsnickel as a sort of cross between St. Nick and Krampus — in fact, the name Belsnickel comes from the German word “bels,” which translates to fur, and “nickel,” referring to St. Nicholas.
Belsnickel covers his face with coal and wears animal furs with large deer horns, and he visits children in late December to ask them if they have been bad or good.
Of course, the question is just a formality for, like Santa, Belsnickel already knows.
Unlike other companions of St. Nicholas, Belsnickel travels alone. The first sign that Belsnickel is near is a tapping on the windows caused by the switches he carries as he sneaks through the dark. If you didn’t hear the tapping, however, fear not — the second sign is far more difficult to miss.
Suddenly, the front door will burst open and Belsnickel will stand before you in his tattered clothing, speaking in a gravelly voice as he moves about the room in a spastic manner.
And as Belsnickel asks the children if they have been naughty or nice, the loud thwack of his bundle of switches serves as a reminder of what will happen to the children who have been naughty.
In his other hand, he holds small treats for good children, usually small cakes, candies, and nuts.
But a visit from Belsnickel is not the end of the Yuletide season — in fact, it is usually just the beginning. Though he may appear to punish bad children like Krampus, Belsnickel actually serves as a reminder that those children still have a few days left to turn their act around before St. Nicholas and Krampus visit their homes.
In other words, if a child is still misbehaving by the time Krampus arrives, they have been adequately warned.
