The Call of Reindeer Bells
by John Herlihy
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Mystery and majesty lie in the spirit of the reindeer,
Standing mysterious and majestic without notable fear.
They carry themselves in vast herds with quiet dignity,
Massive antlers as crown, with airs of ancient royalty.
The only deer with antlers on both males and females—
Females through winter; in autumn, the males’ are felled.
A high concentration of blood vessels warms the red nose,
Lending a mythic suggestion that in winter, it glows.
They move with steady grace in herds across the tundra,
Migrating thousands of miles, their hooves sounding thunder.
Their thick silver gray fur catches the cold Arctic light;
Slow steps reveal quiet strength in the eternal night.
Their hooves turn spongy in summer on muddy terrain,
Then harden with sharp edges on winter’s icy plain.
They travel thousands of miles in massive, roaming herds,
Surviving winter on reindeer moss like hungry birds.
Envision the lead reindeer in the midst of the herd,
Its heavy breath rising like a solemn, spoken word.
Tied around its noble head hangs a large unrung bell,
Warding off dangers the winter night may foretell.
In Siberian myth, the Mother Deer flies without fear,
Crossing the dark winter solstice year after year.
In her magnificent antlers rests a vision of sunlight,
Bringing heat and hope to the long solstice night.
Indigenous Swedes depict a glittering creature on high—
A giant cosmic reindeer running riot across the sky.
If a hunter’s arrow strikes the beast and brings it down,
The stars will fall from the heavens onto the ground.
In Nordic lore, a reindeer shaped earth’s geography:
Its fur the dense forests, its antlers the mountains’ majesty.
In Alaska and Canada, reindeer as caribou disguise,
Shape shifters who turn into humans before your eyes.
In Inuit legend, hunters made the caribou weak,
So the gods created the wolf to make them sleek.
The lore reminds hunters: the caribou feeds the wolf,
The wolf keeps the caribou healthy so both may live long.
Reindeer herders used bells as a matter of utility;
In Nordic climes, animals wander off in zero visibility.
Herd creatures attuned to the sounds of their peers
Follow the distinct bell of a leader to calm their fears.
The bell wrapped around the neck as if by tradition;
Animals adapted to its chime by their own volition.
The constant ringing wards off wolves on the attack,
Alerting wildlife to herds moving across the track.
The bells spoke a language the entire herd understood;
Their ringing protected and kept them together as it could.
No Finnish nor Swedish words settled upon its tongue—
The bell evoked an archaic language whenever it was rung.
At the sound of the bell, something inside them went still—
A frantic sea becoming a placid pond by force of its will.
The sound felt oddly like the silky folds of satin,
Moving across snowdrifts, stroking the face of the wind.
In the Arctic world of polar night, the bells serve as lifeline,
Tracking massive herds across the snowy tundra sublime.
The wild horde of Nordic animals follows the sound in the dark,
Beckoned through blindness with the timidity of a lark.
These noble animals through the Arctic wilderness still roam,
Making their way through midnight darkness, ever seeking home.
For centuries, the sound of reindeer bells filled lonely hours,
Creating unified animus in the herd by its near mystical powers.
— — —
Copyright © John Herlihy
Sunday, 24 May 2026
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What begins as a beautifully observed account of reindeer gradually becomes something far more mythic — the animal, the herd, the tundra, the darkness and finally the bell itself becoming part of an older language.
I particularly loved the idea of the bell becoming a lifeline, not merely for finding the herd, but for calming and uniting it. “At the sound of the bell, something inside them went still” feels like the heart of the poem. It suggests that perhaps the bell isn’t simply heard by the reindeer; something in them remembers it.
There is an almost sacred quality here, where natural history and ancient myth meet. The reindeer cease to be merely animals roaming the Arctic and become creatures carrying something of the old world with them.
This is the stuff Martin Shaw loves.
Beautifully done, John. I could almost hear those bells in the darkness
It is truly amazing how they can find food in subzero temperatures under heavy snow. It takes a large male to break through the heavy layers of snow and ice to reach the lichen (caribou moss) they feed on so that the younger animals can feed, too.
Ron