Brave Mishka and the Spider – Read and Print

By Rachel Dunstan Muller, copyright 2021

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Do you like picnics? Mishka loved picnics – especially with her grandmother. Mishka lived in a little village on one side of the river, and her grandmother lived across the river – on the side of beautiful mountain.

One bright spring day, Mishka’s mother packed her a picnic basket full of all kinds of good things.

Now it was some distance from Mishka’s village to the river, and then across the bridge over the river to her grandmother’s house on the mountain. But the sun was shining, and the birds were singing, and Mishka didn’t mind the walk at all. In fact she was singing as she walked, and swinging her picnic basket from side to side. The basket was a little heavy – after all, it was full of good things, but Mishka didn’t mind that either. She was just happy to be out in the spring sunshine, happy to be going to see her grandmother.

She followed the path out of her village, past a field with goats and sheep, past a meadow filled with wildflowers, and into a forest. It was cool and green under the trees, and the air smelled like warm pine needles.

As she reached the other side of the forest, Mishka could hear the river ahead, when suddenly, out of the shadows, a giant spider appeared.

Now Mishka was a very brave girl. She didn’t scream, she didn’t shriek, but she did take a few careful steps backwards.

“Well, hello,” said the spider. “And just where are you going on this lovely spring day?”

“I’m on my way to see my grandmother,” Mishka said bravely. “She’s expecting me for a picnic.”

“Oh. Oh, dear,” said the spider. “I’m afraid you won’t get there today. The river flooded last night, and the water was so strong, it washed the bridge away.”

Mishka looked past the spider, and gasped. It was true. The bridge – was gone.

“It’s very sad,” the spider agreed. “Now there’s no way to get across, no way to have a picnic with your grandmother.  Unless . . .”

“Unless?” said Mishka.

“Well,” said the spider, “I suppose I could spin a web across the river to make a new bridge. I am very good at spinning, and my silk threads are very strong.”

Mishka looked at the spider’s web and saw that it was true. The silk threads in her giant web were almost as thick as Mishka’s wrist. “Oh, please,” said Mishka. “Could you do that? My mother packed so many good things for our picnic, and I do so want to see my grandmother.”

“I – could,” said the spider, “but spinning an entire bridge is a lot of work. Perhaps if you were willing to pay me . . .”

Mishka shrugged her shoulders sadly. “I don’t have any money.”

“Oh, I don’t want money,” the spider said. “But I have always wanted my own sunhat – to keep the sun out of my eyes. If you gave me a sunhat, I might be willing to spin a new bridge.”

Now, it just so happens that Mishka had forgotten her own sunhat at home – which was unfortunate on such a bright spring day. But she told the spider she would run and get a hat as quickly as she could.

And she did. She ran as fast as her legs would carry her, through the forest, through the meadow, past the field with goats and sheep, all the way back to her own little house. She got a straw sunhat for the spider, and a spare one for herself, and started off again. Past the field, through the meadow, through the forest, until at last (breathing hard) she was back beside the spider.

The spider – was delighted with her new sunhat. She put it on, and tilted her spider head from side to side. “Lovely,” she said. “But I was thinking while you were gone. Spinning an entire bridge is a LOT of work. More than a hat’s worth, I’m sure you’d agree. What I’d really like, is a little flute that I could play, to make music and pass the time. If you brought me a little flute, then I might be willing to spin a new bridge.”

Now, Mishka was beginning to feel a little frustrated. As it happened, she did have a wooden flute, on a shelf beside her bed back at home. Her father had carved it for her, and it made very pretty music. And Mishka didn’t even mind giving the flute to the spider – she knew her father could carve her another one. What she did mind was having to go all the way back home a second time, when she could have gotten the flute at the same time she was getting the straw hat. But Mishka really did want to see her grandmother, and to share the delicious picnic her mother had packed. And so, she agreed.

Mishka’s legs didn’t carry her quite as fast this time, but still, she went as quickly as she could: through the forest, through the meadow, past the field, all the way back to her own little house. She had a big drink of water when she got there, picked up the flute, and started off yet again: past the goats and sheep, past the wildflowers, and through the trees. She was quite out of breath when she finally reached the giant spider.

The spider clapped all eight of her spider hands when Mishka handed her the little wooden flute. And then she put the flute to her spider lips, and began to play.

“Wait,” said Mishka, putting her hands on her hips. “You said you’d spin a new bridge if I brought you a flute!”

“I said I might be willing to spin a new bridge,” said the spider. “But I was thinking again while you were gone. And I’ve decided that I need one more thing before I’m willing to begin my work.”

“Just one more thing?” said Mishka.

“Just one,” the spider agreed.

“Do you promise?” said Mishka.

“I promise,” said the spider. “You know what I would really like? More than anything else? A fresh strawberry tart.”

Mishka heard those words – and she began to laugh. It just so happened, she had a fresh strawberry tart. In fact, she had six of them, half a dozen. And she didn’t even have to run back to her house to get them. No! They were already in her picnic basket! Oh, she laughed, and laughed, and laughed. And then when she was finished laughing, she reached into her picnic basket and got out the biggest tart. And she presented it to the spider with a curtsy.

Well, the spider kept her promise. She ate that strawberry tart, and then she began spinning. And it didn’t take her long to spin and weave and spin and weave a bridge that reached all the way to the other side of the river. And when it was done, Mishka said thank you very politely, picked up her basket, and skipped across.

Mishka’s grandmother was delighted to see her. They had a lovely picnic in the green meadow on the side of the mountain. They had fresh bread, with butter and cheese, they had cucumbers and pickles and tiny sausages. They had strawberry tarts with fresh whipped cream. It was delicious.

And when Mishka went home later that afternoon, the bridge was still there, but the spider was gone. She must have moved on to another forest, because Mishka never saw her again.

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