A long time ago, in Marebbe, there lived a famous snake charmer who had the power to drive away all snakes within a wide area to a specific place. At that time, there were too many snakes on the mountain pasture, and the shepherds did not know what to do. When the livestock rested after feeding, these creatures would crawl under the cows to warm themselves. If one of the animals became restless, it would be bitten by the poisonous worms and die. Moreover, the cows produced less and less milk because the snakes sucked at their udders.
In this distressing situation, the farmers called for the snake charmer and promised him a rich reward if he could rid them of the pests. The magician arrived at the alpine pasture, lit a large fire, and with his mysterious spells, drew the serpents toward the open space and into the flames. Snakes slithered in from all directions and, with an eerie hissing sound, disappeared into the fire and were burned.
Finally, when no more snakes appeared, the magician let out a long, loud whistle. From the highest part of the alpine pasture, the whistle was answered by a terrifying cry. The man turned pale with fear and shouted: “That is the White Serpent. Now I am lost.”
Soon, the White Serpent approached, wearing a golden crown on its head. It lunged at the man, but in terror, he jumped into the fire, where he was miserably burned. The silver serpent, however, also had to perish in the flames. Before doing so, it threw off its small and graceful crown.
A young farmer, who had been watching the snakes and the magic, picked up the crown and took it home. From that moment on, the mountain pasture was freed from the troublesome serpents. The farmer who had taken the crown kept it in his purse and always carried it with him. He always had money in his pocket. The purse remained the same weight, and he could take out as much as he wished. The jewel had the power to multiply money.
Sometimes a light can be seen moving from Rara, along the road to the village, to the cemetery and then returning along the same path. Only rarely does it make small detours. The light is the soul of a deceased farmer from Rara who, although wealthy, was very miserly.
He owned only one pair of shoes for himself and his wife, so the two could never go to church together. Instead, they took turns: he would go one day, and she the following Sunday. As punishment, his soul is condemned to walk back and forth to the church.
The farmer also had only one bed for the farmhand and the maid, so they had to sleep there separated by a small plank, because a larger one was too valuable for him. For this reason, the ordeal of his soul was prolonged even further.
For a long time, the inhabitants of Marebbe had disputes with the people of Ampezzo regarding the boundary between Sennes/Fodara Vedla and Fosses. Since no acceptable solution could be found, the Ampezzo people proposed the following: “The boundary shall run where the large stone stands; only moving this stone can change the border.”
When the people of Marebbe saw this stone, far within Ampezzo territory and almost as large as a small house, they immediately agreed. They did not even consider trying to move it. However, the Ampezzo people sent four strong men who lifted the stone in an instant and carried it toward Fodara Vedla.
The dairymaid of Fodara Vedla noticed this and cried out loudly: “Jesus, Mary, they are taking our alpine pasture!” The stone fell to the ground and crushed all four men carrying it. They had probably made a pact with the devil and could not bear to hear those sacred names.
In their place, four stone pines grew, and today there is also a spring of water there. From that moment on, the boundary remained unchanged.
A knight went off to war and left his pregnant wife at home. One day, a beggar woman came to the castle and asked for alms. But the lady of the castle had a hard heart and had the old woman driven away from the door. The beggar left in anger, but she cursed the lady and cried out toward the windows: “You shall be punished by giving birth to twelve children at once!” And so it happened.
The woman gave birth to twelve children at once, but she kept only one, the one she liked best. She ordered a maid to drown the other eleven in the nearby stream. At that very moment, the knight returned home from the war and met the maid carrying the eleven children in her apron. He asked her what she was taking away, and the maid told him everything.
The knight had the eleven children raised by strangers, but at home he pretended to know nothing. He caressed the boy his wife had kept and took care of his knightly upbringing.
When all the children had grown up, he organized a splendid banquet and told his wife that he had invited eleven noble knights. She considered herself fortunate to entertain such distinguished guests and did everything to make the meal suitably grand.
At last, the eleven knights arrived and the banquet began. During the meal, the knight entertained his guests by recounting his deeds in war and eventually turned the conversation to various crimes. After a while, he began to speak:
“Once there was a mother crow who gave birth to twelve sons at once. She wanted to kill eleven of them and keep only one to raise. However, unknown to her, she was prevented from carrying out her crime, and the eleven boys remained alive and were raised in a foreign land. What punishment would such a mother deserve?”
The woman, who had no idea that anyone besides the maid knew of the matter and believed her eleven children had long since died, replied indignantly: “Such a mother crow should be walled in alive!”
The knight then turned to her calmly and said: “You yourself are that mother crow, and my eleven knightly guests here are our sons whom you wanted to drown. But God willed otherwise. They have remained happily alive, and your judgment shall now be carried out upon you.”
The woman confessed her evil intentions, embraced and kissed her twelve children, and allowed herself to be led away without resistance. Her husband allowed her to choose the place where she would be walled in. She chose the garden wall of the castle and asked for a hollowed elder branch to be placed in her mouth so she could breathe.
If the branch were to grow into an elder tree, she would be saved. But if it withered, she would be condemned to hell. And so she was walled in.
Thanks be to God, the branch grew into a magnificent elder bush!
The Col farm above Corte was considered particularly blessed, and this is explained as follows: many years ago, a salvan (a wild man) came to the house and was warmly welcomed by the farmer’s wife. The little man was very pleased and stayed for some time. He was well received by everyone, especially because he played so kindly with the children.
He spent the whole day playing in the meadow with the little ones and looked after them, so that the farmer’s wife could work without worry. When she returned home to cook, the little man would sit on the stove by the fire with the children and play all sorts of tricks on the farmer’s wife and the little ones.
When the farmer’s wife said, “Perhaps today I haven’t cooked enough,” the little man would reply, “It is enough.” And if she said, “Perhaps I’ve put too much in the pan today,” he would say, “It is just right.” In this way, she always cooked exactly the right amount, whether she had prepared a little or a lot.
The maid of the house had grown fond of the man and often gave him a piece of her cake, contenting herself with soup. The salvan accepted the cake gratefully and, before leaving, gave the woman a ball of yarn with which she knitted for many years. The ball of yarn never ran out.
Thus, the maid became wealthy and married the son of a great and well-known farmer. Eventually, however, she grew tired of knitting and one day said, “Will this ball of yarn never come to an end?” At that very moment, the yarn was finished.
The now wealthy farmer’s wife lost her blessing, and the family became poorer and poorer. She often regretted her arrogance, but by then it was too late.
A farmer from Longega had a cat. It was coal-black and had a single white hair. For this reason, he called it Malan, which means “devil.” The cat always slipped out of the house in the evening and returned only the next morning. However, since it was very good at catching mice, the farmer kept it. During the day, it did nothing but hunt mice.
One night, the farmer had to go to Piccolino. As he walked through the forest, where it was usually very quiet and pitch dark, midnight struck. The farmer counted the strokes. And as the last one sounded, he heard a noise in the distance.
Suddenly, he saw a beautiful castle below the path, where the steep slope leads down to the stream in the valley, more beautiful than anything he had ever seen in his life. “What a marvelous building,” he thought to himself. “How can it stand there without sliding down? I have never seen it there before. I want to see if it really exists.”
The farmer crept along through the forest and saw the windows lit up. From inside the castle came wonderful music, as if it were a wedding. He took his hat off and secretly peered through the nearest window.
Inside, there was a great hall with a thousand candles burning on golden candelabras. But the people dancing in the hall were unknown to him. They were being served by a group of black cats, each more beautiful than the other. They ran back and forth through the hall, up and down the stairs, in high spirits.
Now he wanted to see who was making such beautiful music. Once again, they were all black cats. They sat on a high platform and played trumpets, horns, and violins. And there, to his horror, he saw his own house cat sitting in a corner, blowing into a flute with puffed cheeks as hard as it could.
“Cursed animal,” the farmer shouted angrily, “now I know where you always hide at night!”
They heard him in the castle, and at that very moment the lights went out. Everything was plunged into total darkness. He heard a clattering down the stairs, so that the farmer leapt to his feet and did not dare to look back. Otherwise, it would have been the end of him.
But the cat never returned home, and he never saw it again.
Midnight has always been the most favorable hour for apparitions. And indeed, even at Furcia, at the foot of Plan de Corones, strange things happen.
A fiery wagon pulled by a black billy goat crosses the Furcia Pass. Sometimes it comes from Val Pusteria, at other times from San Vigilio. Occasionally, the wagon stops in front of the door of a stable, and the goat is led inside to rest for a while. But not for long. Soon it is harnessed again to the wagon, which resumes its run down the mountainside, casting sinister flames that eventually vanish into the darkness.
One night, a farmer who lived up there near Furcia heard a great commotion in the stable, as if an entire group of threshers were at work. In the yard, it seemed as though a large number of inexperienced people had begun to beat the grain with all their might; it sounded as if they wanted to break through the floor.
Suddenly, the stable burst open with a loud crash, like a clap of thunder, and from the doorway came a roaring wagon drawn by six white, well-harnessed horses that breathed fire from their mouths and nostrils. Sitting in front was a black dog, also breathing fire from its mouth. The road was as bright as day.
The wagon sped along with the speed of the wind and disappeared at the top of the pass, where the ascent toward San Vigilio begins.
“Finanziato tramite Avviso pubblico per la presentazione di Proposte di intervento per la rigenerazione culturale e sociale dei piccoli borghi storici, da finanziare nell’ambito del PNRR, Missione 1 "Digitalizzazione, innovazione, competitività e cultura", Componente 3 "Turismo e Cultura 4.0" (M1C3), Misura 2 “Rigenerazione di piccoli siti culturali, patrimonio culturale, religioso e rurale”, Investimento 2.1 “Attrattività dei borghi”, finanziato dall’Unione europea - NextGenerationEU e gestito dal Ministero della Cultura”.