A Good Luck Sign

"Finding a bird's nest tucked among the branches 

of the Christmas tree is one of the luckiest traditions of Christmas, 

for it predicts good fortune through the coming year."

-- Linda E. Allen, "Nestled in the Christmas Tree"

The bird nest in my Christmas tree 12-22-15

"Oh, Grossmutter, see! St. Nicholas hung 

a little bird's nest for me on the Christmas tree!"

"So he did, so he did, Gretel," said the old woodcutter 

as he took the nest down and put it in Gretel's hands.

-- Carolyn Sherwin Bailey, 

"The Child Abroad," Stories and Rhymes For A Child

"I have last year's nest on my windowsill ... 

and will put this year's next to it as a reminder 

of what it is to receive life's little gifts, especially at Christmas time. 

I like to believe that nature showers love on the people wanting to receive it."

--Laura Munson, 

"A Nest In The Hand," huffingtonpost.com

At our house, the Christmas tree is a guy thing.

The hunt it.

They kill it.

The decorate it.

It's their territory. Their tradition.

I don't touch it.

It's been that way since the boys were little, but big enough to hang ornaments. I just step aside and let them do it the way they want to.

I think my hands-off approach stems from my own bad childhood Christmas tree memories.

My parents had some pretty bitter arguments over the tree. I remember the whole process felt very stressful and made me extremely anxious.

My sisters and I would go along with Dad to the tree lot or wherever, take time picking out what we thought was a really great tree, and then bring it home for Mom's approval. Then we'd listen to a stream of criticism over his poor choice. It was too tall. Too short. The stem wasn't straight. There was a bare spot. Blah, blah, blah.

She'd bite.

He'd bite back.

I'd cower somewhere safe from the flying accusations and insults.

Needless to say, their arguing kind of sucked the magic out of it for me.

And I think that's why now, as a grownup with kids and a husband of my own, I do nothing but praise the efforts of my Christmas tree hunting/gathering/decorating team. They do a good job. I just sit back and enjoy it.

Because the guys always cut a real tree from out in the wild, every once in a while they bring home one with a bird nest hidden inside.

There's some Icelandic or German tradition that says finding a bird nest in your Christmas tree is a symbol of good health and fortune for the coming year.

They found one in this year's tree while they were trimming back the branches and stringing on the lights.  It's a tiny little nest -- delicate and wispy -- no bigger than a small child's fist.

I don't know if the bird nest in Christmas tree legend is true or not, but I like to think it is.

A little good luck is always a good thing.

Plus, how in the world can you argue over a Christmas tree that comes with a gift already inside?

Feeding My Family

"I still think that one of the pleasantest of all emotions is to know that I,

I with my brain and my hands, have nourished my beloved few,

that I have concocted a stew or a story, a rarity or a plain dish,

to sustain them truly against the hungers of the world."

-- M.F.K. Fisher

Robin with berries 4-14-14

"There is no spectacle on earth more appealing than that

of a beautiful woman in the act of cooking dinner

for someone she loves."

-- Thomas Wolfe

A Starling in a Pear Tree

" ... even the smallest of the starlings' concerns grew in importance 

until it seemed equal to the worries of kings."

-- Christopher Paolini, Inheritance

Starling in flowering pear tree 1-10-14

"Man generally does not know enough about the cycle of life 

to mess with the biological diversity of a region without causing irreparable damage, 

the starling is an excellent case in point."

-- Nature Ali

When the cold  snap finally broke, Mother Nature released the starlings, and our front yard trees were full of them.

Starlings are not a good thing.

Starlings are nuisance birds. 

People hate starlings. 

There are entire how-to websites dedicated to eradicating as many starlings as possible. Starlings destroy crops, ruin vineyards, foul animal feed and spread diseases to livestock and other birds. They fly into jet engines and cause airplane crashes which kill people. They nest wherever they damn well please, they're noisy, they shit everywhere. They dominate other bird species. They are called "intelligent killers," the "avian menace," "ugly birds" and "vermin" whose population is growing unabated. 

There are hordes of starlings because some d-bag brought a few nesting pair to North America from Europe in 1880. 

Dipshit.

The experts say winter is the best time to rub out the starlings because that's when their populations are weakest, and it's before the spring nesting season when they git bizzy and multiply. Anything goes: traps, bb guns and other firearms, tainted bait, strangulation with your bare hands, biting off their heads. Whatever it takes to kill the little bastards.

I can think about cold-blooded murder another day. 

On this day, after a stretch of bitter cold that paralyzed the bare, frozen landscape and sent all the creatures running for cover, it was nice to see some signs of life, even if it was a bunch of goddamn starlings.  

I shot this guy with my camera from my son's bedroom window. According to the experts, I should have blown it's ugly head off. But I thought he looked pretty and peaceful perched in the flowering pear tree. So I didn't take his life. I took his picture. Which, I'll bet if you asked the starling, was a good thing.

Everybody is beautiful sometimes. 

Even goddamn fucking starlings.