I’ll Stay Inside: The Swiss Pfingstbliter

Photo credit: Nazar Aslan

And now for a little springtime Swiss tradition straight out of certain nightmares:

The Pfingstblitter.

At least it takes place during the daylight hours.

What Happens for Pfingstbliter

When I first heard about this one, I didn’t quite believe it.

The Pfingstbliter takes place on the Sunday of Pentecost, a day called “Whitsunday.” For the, er, festival (event? holiday? celebration?), men go out into the nearby forests, cut down branches, and disguise themselves as bushes so that they can rove around town in the afternoon grabbing women and throwing them in fountains.

Traditionally, the tree-men are supposed to grab unmarried women as they make their way home from church. Declines in church attendance over the years, though, have left all young women in the participating town that day fair game.

After their afternoon of hunting, the branch covered men are served food and drink in appreciation for their afternoon’s effort.

Indeed.

The Origins of the Pfingstbliter

Everything I can find about the whys and wherefores indicates that this tradition connects to ancient fertility rituals that take place in the spring season.

But no one knows when the Pfingstbliter tradition began or the specific reasons for its inception. Is the dunking supposed to help render the victims more fertile? Does it represent something else (including something more sinister)? No one really seems to know.

From what I could find in my research, the Pfingstbliter was once fairly widespread in the region south of the Swiss city of Basel known as the Leimental Valley. That was back in the 19th century, though. These days, it’s died out everywhere other than in the town of Ettingen.

Would You Stay Inside, Too?

Now, I suppose you’d know to expect this sort of thing on the Sunday of Pentecost, if you lived in one of these towns. So I’d imagine you’d know to hole up inside all afternoon and wait for it to be over.

Or maybe I’m the only spoilsport.

Honestly, though, I’m hard wired not to want things jumping out of shrubbery—or shrubbery itself—to whisk me away. Blame my limbic system and love for dark fiction. Seems like the kind of thing a person knows to avoid.

If you’d like to see how this goes down without subjecting yourself to the risk of a dunking—a wise choice, I’d say—here are some photos of the Pfingstbliter on a German-language website based in the area.