There once lived an elf named Putter Patter. He lived in the Black forest of Germany and was a very happy elf. He spent most days warming his hands and feet as he sat with a pint of ale, smoking his pipe at a cozy forest inn. If anyone in the village needed something repaired they would look for Putter Patter at the inn. The villager would tell the elf what was broken, or sometimes they would ask if he could make something for them, such as a cabinet or chair. Putter Patter would look at their need and either fix or make what they needed.
This was a fine arrangement for the village, who kept the elf happy with tobacco and ale while he toasted his toes at the inn's hearth. And the inn enjoyed having the elf as a guest. When wayfarers stayed, he delighted in a chat about roads and paths needed for destinations. Elves, as everyone knows, live a very long time and know every inch of the forest and its glens.
As time went by the village grew more prosperous, and people wanted something to tell the time. They needed clocks, so the town council went to Putter Patter to see if he had an idea of a clock they could use. For clocks at that time were very, very rare. Putter Patter placed his chin in his hand and puffed his pipe in thought. The fire crackled and popped, as he pondered the subject. The council stood waiting for his ideas with an occasional good soul handing the elf another pint of ale or tobacco for his pipe.
While Putter Patter steeped deep in thought, a cuckoo bird called outside the window. "Cuc-koo, Cuc-koo," the bird sang out.
Suddenly the elf stood up and snapped his fingers. "I've got it!" He cheered.
Off he ran to his workshop made within the trunk of a great oak, opened the door and went right to his tools and wood. He sawed and hammered, hammered and sawed. Putter Patter rang bells, blew whistles and sounded horns, but he just wasn't satisfied with what he heard. He tinkered and whittled, he sawed and hammered some more but for him it didn't sound quite the right tone for a forest clock, it needed the soul of the forest to sound just right for him.
While he sat to ponder what to do, a cuckoo bird sang outside the window, "Cuck-koo, Cuc-koo." Putter Patter jumped up, grabbed one of his clocks, and ran out the door toward the cuckoo bird in the limb of his oak tree.
The elf held up his clock and said, "Mr. Cuckoo. Dear fellow, would you put your voice in my box?"
The cuckoo looked at the clock in the elf's hand and shook his head no.
"And why not?" Asked the elf for he thought his clocks had a fine quality to them.
"What kind of home is that for a bird? it looks like a clock.
Putter Patter looked at his creation. It had a bright blue front with pillars at the corners to hold up the flat roof. The dial was bright brass that twinkled in the light. Then he thought about what the cuckoo bird said.
"Mr. Cuckoo, would you be kind enough to come back tomorrow? I have an idea of what you might like."
"Very good," said the cuckoo.
Putter Patter looked about the forest where he had lived all his life. For the first time, he looked closely at each leaf and twig of the great oak, he looked at the branches and everything around him with the keenest of eye. The elf then went back inside and began to work. His wood chisel grooved and his file smoothed, he cut and hammered, hammered and cut all through the day and night.
In the morning, as dawn warmed the day, Putter Patter held the new clock up to the window and smiled. He went to his stove and heated water for tea to wait until the cuckoo called. With his mug of tea, he went to his rocker, sat down and lit his pipe.
After his second cup, he heard the cuckoo. With his new clock in hand, Putter Patter walked outside to greet the bird.
"Well, what do you think?" Asked Putter Patter.
The bird flew down for a closer look. The clock had carved oak leaves and branches with acorns, and a carved wood cuckoo at the top. The face and hands were made with different color woods. The roof slanted to keep the rain and snow off. It was a very handsome clock indeed. But something wasn't quite right.
"How would I sing?" Asked the cuckoo.
"Ah!, let me show you."
Putter Patter put his clock on a hook and set the pine cone weights to hang. Then he turned the carved wood hands until they went to the hour. The clock banged with a gong and a door over the face opened. Out popped a beautiful carved cuckoo.
"Oh, that's so much better. And you captured my real look. Let me fly inside."
With that, Putter Patter opened the back of the clock to let the cuckoo in and held it up for the bird's inspection. In a quick flight, the cuckoo landed inside and asked the elf to shut him in and turn the clock to the hour.
Putter Patter did what was asked and when the little door over the dial opened the tiny cuckoo came out and sang, "Cuc-koo," for each hour.
The elf opened the back again to let the bird out. The cuckoo flew high into the branches and sang as loud as he could to draw all the creatures of the forest to see what the elf made.
Deer and squirrels, owls, foxes and bears all came to the see what the elf had done. When all the creatures of the forest settled about, Putter Patter put the clock to work for the noon hour.
When the hands of the cock hit noon, the cuckoo clock banged and the door opened. The carving of the cuckoo came out and sung, "Cuckoo," for each hour.
All the creatures loved this thing called a clock, though they didn't understand why humans needed such a thing. Creatures only need the sun and stars to tell you when it's time to eat or sleep. But they congratulated the elf on his new invention for humans anyway. The elf beamed with the praise, for it was one thing to fix a squeaky door and sit by the fire with a pint, but to hear the forest creatures give him credit was best of all.
Putter Patter made many, many cuckoo clocks. He carved the images of all the creatures that came that day on his cuckoo clocks after that. And to this day, cuckoo clocks look like the forest they came from, otherwise, the cuckoo won't sing.
