After last weekend’s discussion of Dziady, this Slavic Saturday continues a bit of an autumn theme with a new demon. The harvesting season was always a crucial period for the early Slavs before winter, but a demonic cat called the Ovinnik (also the Gumiennik, Joŭnik, or Jownik) was a threat to grain storage during the cold months.
(June 2021 Updated) Note: If you enjoy Slavic mythology, check out A Dagger in the Winds, the first book in my Slavic fantasy series called The Frostmarked Chronicles. You can also join my monthly newsletter for updates and free novellas (such as the prequel, The Rider in the Night) set in the world of the series.
Before I dive too far into the Ovinnik, I need to emphasize that the early Slavs practiced a way of life heavily dependent on agriculture. Most societies were at the time, but unlike some of western Europe under late Roman and then Frankish and Germanic influence, the early Slavs had much less early cities and industry. This focus on agriculture meant demons often had interactions with their crops (including the płanetnik and chała). The Ovinnik is no different.
The threshing house (or barn) was an important part of the harvesting time, but the Ovinnik was a threat to the precious grain stored within. Grain stored within the usually wooden barn was incredibly dry. This meant fires were a dangerous and possible occurrence, and when flames did ruin the winter’s crucially important food supply, a demon, of course, was thought to be at fault.
This fire-setting creature appeared commonly as a black cat with angry eyes, but it can also be a dark, deformed creature, as demons are typically shape-shifters in Slavic myth. The cat hung around the threshing house and granaries, constantly waiting to burn it if offended.
The Ovinnik’s malevolent mood made it essential to please it. And in typical demonic fashion, it has its favorite foods that villagers must sacrifice. These tend to be roosters and, even more commonly, blini/bliny (a Russian crepe). Sacrificing these to the Ovinnik took away from the village’s food supply, but it saved the essential grain that would keep them alive until the thaw. Cats were often around barns during early Slavic times, like they are today, so it is fascinating to see that connection. Ironically, this story also aligns with our thoughts on cats – wanting gifts, endless attention, and “sacrifices.”
Beyond burning down threshing houses and ruining grain, the Ovinnik had another power, similar to that of the Bannik. People could approach the Ovinnik on New Year’s Eve and ask it for their fortune in the next year. The Ovinnik would use divination and then touch the person. If the touch was warm, the omens were good, but if it was cold, they would be disappointed.
So, while the harvest brought many festivals (that we will talk about soon), there were always threats to the crop. Ovinniks, like many other demons, lurked in the corners of people’s minds and represented how crucial the limited food supply was and how perilous surviving the tough Eastern European winters could be. Given how common fires like this could be in a dry place like a threshing house, it makes sense why a demon would be blamed. Demons were ill-omens, and to lose the grain ahead of winter was one of the worst omens of all.
In my own stories, Ovinniks will make a few appearances, including in the prequel novella I’m working on this month. Their threat hangs over characters among certain tribes, and mishandling them, like we’ve talked about, can have dire consequences. Some characters, though, have to learn that the hard way.
That’s all for this week’s Slavic Saturday. Be sure to keep a lookout for more posts next week, and if you haven’t seen the full series of posts, be sure to check them out.
*As always just a quick disclaimer. Slavic mythology is broad and not written in many if any primary sources, so there’s a variety of interpretations. The interpretations I’m using here are from the sources I’ve found to be reliable and as well as some creative freedom for my book series.