A Robin's True Tarot Tale

[Katie-Ellen]

The North Wind Doth Blow
And we shall have snow
And what will the robin do then, poor thing?
He'll hide in a barn
To keep himself warm
And hide his head under his wing
Poor thing.

Traditional

Seeds, scraps and fat balls. There are many depictions of animals and birds in the picture book oracle of the Tarot. This is fitting. They form a great part of the human landscape physically, economically, intellectually, emotionally, spiritually, and symbolically. If there is a heaven, what would it be without them? I wouldn't mind if mosquitoes, maggots, deadly snakes and komodo dragons didn't make it. Spiders would be all right in my book, as long as they were non-venomous and less than two inches in diameter. However, I shan't worry about it, as
a) There may be no such place as heaven, in the sense of as a state or place open to worldly description.
b) unless we make our own heavens, though I think we do, it won't be us saying who and what goes there.

The bird traditionally associated with Yuletide (excluding turkeys, geese and chickens who have drawn the Wheel of Fortune card in its unlucky aspect and will be consumed as festive fare) - is of course the cheeky, dumpy little European robin, Erithacus rubecula.
The robin is considered an unlucky bird by some older people, a harbinger of death, and they do not welcome its image on a Christmas card. But the robin has other superstitions attached where it figures as a symbol of compassion. Its red breast is a legacy of the robin who tried to remove the crown of thorns from Christ's head, bedewed with His blood in the process. It was a fairytale robin who found the dead Babes in the Wood, and covered them with a coverlet of fallen leaves against the coming winter.

According, to Celtic tradition, the wren is the sacred bird of the Oak King who rules the waxing of the year. At Yuletide the robin supplants the wren, the sacred bird of the Holly King who rules the waning of the year and is dethroned by the solstice after which the year begins to wax again.

The robin's a member of the flycatcher family, a distant cousin of the American and antipodean robins of the Thrush family. The more slender red-breasted American robin, Turdus migratorius, is the state bird of Michigan, Connecticut and Wisconsin.

It is thought the robin acquired the pet human name 'Robin' in the 15th century. Its preferred habitats are woodlands, hedgerows, parks and garden. Its staple diet is worms, seeds, fruits and insects. It will fight over sunflower seeds and it adores mealworms. You can buy these in dried form in lots of outlets including many supermarkets. Revolting-looking, though people used to baiting fish hooks won't mind. Robins have been to take dried mealworms by hand, so deliciously irresistible are they; though live ones would be preferable.

Male and females are identical to look at. Young robins have no red breast, and are a speckled golden brown colour. The lack of red breast in the young defends them from territorial attack by adults.Robins mostly die young. If one beats the odds and lives to beyond 1.1 years it may reach twelve years, or even twenty but this is rare. The robin looks cute but it will fight to the death for its territory, and one in ten die in combat. Male and female fight, either may win or die. The one in my garden right now however, is shy and scurries into the rosemary when a pigeon appears whereas other robins will challenge a pigeon. Well, I suppose they are individuals just as we are.

All right, all right, you robin, there. I've seen you, hopping to and fro as you try to catch my eye. I'm on my way with food. But take note, my fine robin friend; it isn't all for you.

Let's see what you have to say via the translating medium of the Tarot, risks of anthropomorphism notwithstanding.

Are you a cock or hen robin? Answer card: The High Priestess. Meaning: Female.I pull another card and get the Moon Reversed. Meaning: I am a hen bird. I am solitary right now, I want no mate. This is not the time.

What are you thinking right now? Answer card: The Empress. Meaning: What have we here? Food! I have discovered a new harvest! I must eat my fill while I can.I pull another card, just as the robin flies off againÂ…and, strangely enough, the card is The Chariot, a card of flight and travel (currently cropping up rather a lot, unsurprisingly). The robin has flitted just a short distance to sit on top of the seed feeder hung in the bare branches of a laburnum tree.

Why have you gone to sit there? Answer card: The Seven of Wands Reversed. Meaning: I am new to this garden and I must be careful. This is a good vantage point from which to spy out danger and not be taken unawares.

What's your favourite time of year? Answer card: The Empress Reversed. Meaning: A time when there are plenty of fruits and seeds, but there are still sheltering leaves on the trees. A time when there are still long hours of light to feed by, and sometimes there's still warmth. The night does not bite so hard. My legs are stiff at first light, they do not want to move but I must move, must find food fast.

Fare you well, my fine and feisty robin friend. OK. In most readings, the possibility of verification, validation, present or future is key to the value of the process. Here, no validation is possible. I have done enough work for animal owners to know that intuitive communication yielding verifiable insights and information can work across species. Maybe not all species, maybe only higher invertebrates, but living things share common drives and needs. Sentient and sensate beings whether bare and feathered, scaled and furry, are all inextricably subject to vagaries of environment, as a common denominator in shared consciousness.

The severe winter of 1962/63 decimated wild birds. The UK was left with an estimated 50-60 breeding robin pairs. A few crumbs, or bits of suet or seeds and a bit of fresh water is everything to the feathered folk looking in at the window.

Season's Greetings, fellow readers, writers and bird lovers, Litopia and Twitter!

 

[1408]

I loved this post. Really, really, really loved it. The robin in my garden is a little star. If I've been out it will come and see what's up and check if I've unearthed any worms for it, and if not then why not? I don't have a favourite bird, but if I did the robin would be a high contender! Thankfully, I've not seen any fighting with the other birds. There are nearly twenty collared doves now that arrive for their breakfast and supper! I don't know if you remember my past avatar of a dove, but it was a baby I found in the middle of the night (during a storm) sitting on the rabbit run. We had hardly any doves at that point but since then Rufus and her mom have been bringing back a growing family! I have so many photos of her (and her with her mom when they were reunited – I should write a blog post about the experience because it was amazing!) but I’ll post one of my favourites.

The robin’s tarot reading was great, and I also very much enjoyed the poem. I'll be sure to remember to keep the outdoor food stocked up over the cold months! Not like the squirrels give me much of a choice. They'll come in a nick it if it's not put it out! I've caught pigeons doing it, too.

Admittedly, I’m not knowledgeable at all when it comes to poetry but, I do have a favourite that is quite fitting for this time of year. I’ll post it below.

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
by Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

 

[Marc Joan]

We have put out the fatballs already; just blue-tits so far, but I expect my favourites, the long-tailed tits, each like a little ball of fluff on a stick, to appear soon. Our robins (presume a different one in front and back gardens respectively) are almost obese. Is there a Tarot card that says 'go on a diet'?
The Robert Frost poem is one of my father's favourites.
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all. My chosen poem, somewhat unoriginally, would be The Journey of the Magi:

'A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For a journey, and such a long journey:
The ways deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter.'
And the camels galled, sorefooted, refractory,
Lying down in the melting snow.
There were times we regretted
The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,
And the silken girls bringing sherbet.
Then the camel men cursing and grumbling and running away, and wanting their liquor and women,
And the night-fires going out, and the lack of shelters,
And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly
And the villages dirty and charging high prices:
A hard time we had of it.
At the end we preferred to travel all night,
Sleeping in snatches,
With the voices singing in our ears, saying
That this was all folly.
Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,
Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;
With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness,
And three trees on the low sky,
And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow.
Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,
Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver,
And feet kicking the empty wine-skins.
But there was no information, and so we continued
And arriving at evening, not a moment too soon
Finding the place; it was (you might say) satisfactory.
All this was a long time ago, I remember,
And I would do it again, but set down
This: were we led all that way for Birth or Death?
There was a Birth, certainly
We had evidence and no doubt.
I had seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different; this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.

 

[Katie-Ellen]

I'm bumping this because, well, robin's back again. This Robin/ne Goodfellow is not the same individual as last year, quieter, a trifle less bumptious, but ...gotta love 'em all.

 

[Patricia D]

I enjoyed your post - thank you. Robins in the US are a little different but still beloved. In the North, they are considered harbingers of Spring.

 

[Katie-Ellen]

It's beautiful.

 

[MaryA]

This is a fantastic read, @Katie-Ellen Hazeldine. It made me so nostalgic for the English countryside. And I'm always hugely intrigued by tarot readings across species and bringing in landscape and weather.

 

[Barbara]

Hey Katie, thanks for writing this. The Robin was my nan's favourite bird, and ever since she died, I have a Robin visiting my garden. So does my sister. So does my mum. We all think it's Nan saying hello, ... and she always turns up when I need her most. Then, she pecks the table near the window and hops around the chairs, just to make sure I see her.

 

[Katie-Ellen]

@MaryA I have done many readings for animals over the years; they are other nations such that it makes me fear St Francis must be half out of his mind on a permanent basis. I can only console myself that I love pigs, but that also a pig would eat me, in other circumstances, as being simply in its nature to do so. And so would my cat No fault in them. Inncocent killers.

A reading here for a pony One of my first animal readings.

@Barbara. Bless your Nan Birds, beasts, and butterflies. They are in our souls, why should they not be soul's messengers?

 

[Patricia D]

A reading here for a pony One of my first animal readings.


The reading for Mustard was lovely, KTLN. I hope he lived to a happy and secure old age, among friends.

 

[Amber]

We have put out the fatballs already; just blue-tits so far, but I expect my favourites, the long-tailed tits, each like a little ball of fluff on a stick, to appear soon. Our robins (presume a different one in front and back gardens respectively) are almost obese. Is there a Tarot card that says 'go on a diet'?

There's so much I don't understand. What is a fatball. Is it literally a ball of fat or is it a ball of birdseed for the blue jays? Are long-tailed tits fat birds with long tails?

I get birds this time of year but more in October than November ...and they're tiny and not particularly fluffy.

 

[Marc Joan]

Ha, sorry, keep forgetting the vocabulary differences, even the ones I'm aware of. Fatballs are indeed balls of fat, or perhaps more accurately balls of a calory-rich, solid paste embedded with seeds; we put them out to help wild birds through the winter. 'Tits' are any one of a number of species of small garden birds -- coal tits, blue tits, great tits . . . I acknowledge the potential for comedies of error . . . But anyway, here is a long-tailed tit:

 

[Amber]

Ha, sorry, keep forgetting the vocabulary differences, even the ones I'm aware of. Fatballs are indeed balls of fat, or perhaps more accurately balls of a calory-rich, solid paste embedded with seeds; we put them out to help wild birds through the winter. 'Tits' are any one of a number of species of small garden birds -- coal tits, blue tits, great tits . . . I acknowledge the potential for comedies of error . . . But anyway, here is a long-tailed tit:

Nice tit. Very cute. That's for splaining.