Of a Feather: Christmas stories

COURTESY OF KACEY 97078
Christmas and symbolic birds are both parts of Western culture. So, it is not surprising that birds should enter into Christmas stories and songs. Because the holiday has come to be of overwhelming importance since Victorian times (thank you, Prince Albert), you might be taking the birds for granted.

Why, for example, does a partridge in a pear tree lead off the famous litany that documents the twelve days of Christmas? In a good example of you-can’t-always-trust-the-internet, I saw one claim that the partridge represents Jesus Christ and that the pear tree is the cross. Why a partridge? This “source” suggests that partridges feign injury to decoy a predator away from their nests.

There are all kinds of difficulties with this interpretation. First of all, partridges do no such thing. In fact, the male partridges are known to be not particularly Christ-like and to attack stoats, weasels, and even humans that approach their nests. It has also been noted that gray partridges, the native species in England, do not often perch in trees, while the French species, known as the red-legged partridge, does so far more often.

The origin of the song or carol is not known, but variations of it are found all over Europe. It was first published in England in 1780, but is known to be a traditional children’s memory song from Sweden to Spain. A group would sing it together and any child who could not correctly remember the gift for the next day had to drop out of the game. The association with English children and, frankly, with the English in general is significant in that neither are particularly good with foreign languages.

The French word for partridge is “perdrix,” pronounced “pehr-dree.” Which is to say, it sounds quite a bit like “pear tree” in English. Many versions of the song refer to a “merry old partridge” and include no tree whatsoever. This suggests “joyeux vieux perdrix” may somehow have become a partridge in a pear tree.

There are several other birds in this song: two turtle doves, three French hens, four “calling” birds, six geese a-laying, and seven swans a-swimming. Turtle doves are found throughout Europe, including the east and south of England, perhaps accounting for their constant appearance in all versions. “French” hens are thought to be an English reference to anything foreign or fancy. We see this in things like “French toast” and “French-cut beans.”

“Calling birds” was introduced to the lyrics in 1909 by Frederic Austin, who set them to the melody that most of us know. Earlier versions, including the first-printed 1780 version, have it as “colly” birds, with various spellings. Colly is an English vernacular word for “coal-black” and likely refers to the European blackbird, a thrush that looks like a black robin. It has also been speculated that this is another case of corrupted French, as “collet” (pronounced coh-lay) is the French word for “ruff” and may refer to pigeons bred to have a ruff of feathers around their necks.

Geese and swans are, well, geese and swans, but there is some speculation that the “five gold rings” may be birds as well. Sherlock Holmes scholar William Baring-Gould claimed (without evidence) this to be a reference to the ringed pheasant, an Asian bird often bred in captivity in Europe. It has also been noted that “goldchinks” is the old English name for the goldfinch. However, the transition to jewelry had been made by 1780 because the illustration that accompanies the first publication of the lyrics in English is of five gold rings.

In New England, we don’t have any real partridges, but our grouse are often called partridges. The spruce grouse is the black, cedar or swamp partridge, while ruffed grouse are just partridges or “pats.” This elision between similar European and American species helps the popularity of just-so stories that explain how the robin got its red breast. A traditional English story suggests robins were once white all over, which helped them hide through the bleak, leafless winters. One frozen winter day a very hungry robin gorged on holly berries and stained its breast red. In trying to clean himself off, he managed to get mud all over him. Elsewhere, the Salish tribe on the west coast of North America have a traditional story in which a different robin fans a fire to keep it going and thereby saves a family from freezing to death. The heat of the flames turns its breast red.

The connection between Christ and the robin includes a legend that is about the death of Jesus rather than his birth. A robin witnesses a man hanging on a cross outside of Jerusalem, something he has seen before, but this one is different because he is wearing a crown of thorns. The bird can see that the thorns are piercing the man’s brow and drawing blood. In pity the bird tries to draw out the thorns and through the effort bloodies his breast.

A story perhaps equally old is associated with Jesus’s birth. In the stable in Bethlehem it was very cold. As the fire died, Mary asked one animal after another for help. But it was a robin who appeared and fanned the embers and brought small sticks to add. Suddenly, the embers caught and the robin’s chest was singed by the burst of flames. Nonetheless, he continued to fan the flames to keep the fire going. In the morning Mary blessed the bird and declared his breast would now always be red to recall his kindness and valor at the fire.

So, when you see a robin, here or abroad, remember: kindness and valor is something we could all practice, at Christmas and always.

Bill Chaisson has been a birdwatcher from the age of 10. He is a former managing editor of the Eagle Times and now lives and works in the town of Wilmot. Contact him at [email protected].