THIS coming Sunday, December 6, is often known as Old Christmas Day, or the Feast of St Nicholas. In this country, it featured as Christmas Day during the Julian Calendar but in some countries, including several in Europe, Christmas is still celebrated on December 6. Presents are exchanged and other festivities are enjoyed. It was St Nicholas who gave his name to Santa Claus (Santa Nicholaus), with the term Christmas deriving from Christes masse, the mass or church festival of Christ.

Three of my grandchildren have a Dutch father and, as young children, they enjoyed trips to their Dutch grandparents where, on December 6, they celebrated the first of their two Christmases. Gifts were placed in clogs that rested overnight on the hearth and there were other festivities. In some parts of Holland, the St Nicholas parties are now held on December 24, which is Christmas Eve in many other countries. Then our grandchildren returned to England for more Christmas celebrations with us on December 24-25.

The changes that produced our current calendar occurred with the introduction of the Gregorian Calendar by Pope Gregory the Great in 1582, and which remains in use. His work earned him the title of the Anti-Christ because it was thought he was interfering with the work of God, but in fact the calculations he used were based on research by two eminent international mathematical astronomers, Christopher Clavius and Johannes Kepler, and have been adopted by most civilised countries.

Oddly enough, in Roman times, the pagans enjoyed celebrations on December 25, which was then the winter solstice and a sacred day in their calendar. Pope Julius I conducted a deeply researched inquiry into a long-standing tradition that December 25 was indeed the birthday of Christ and decided it was; thus he made the date official. The gifts presented on that day were to help the people conquer selfishness and aid the poor, while the burning candles symbolised the Light of the World.

With regard to the Christmas tree, there is a story that St Boniface of Crediton (c657-754 or 755) travelled to Germany to teach the gospel to the heathen tribes and that he cut down a sacred oak tree on Christmas Eve and then offered the outraged pagans a young spruce tree as a symbol of the new faith. It seems that in time the spruce became acceptable in Germany as a symbol of Christmas and it was introduced to England in Victoria’s reign due to the influence of her husband, Prince Albert of Saxe-Coburg. Each year, we are sent a Norway spruce from the Norwegians as a gesture of gratitude following the Second World War.

This potted history is brief but it does help to show how the festival of Christmas has developed and spread around the world, even now with celebrations at different times. As we might expect, Bethlehem has its own special festivities but it is interesting that in the Holy City, the various representative faiths hold their church services on different dates.

Roman Catholics and Protestants celebrate on Christmas Eve, December 24; the Greek Orthodox, Syrians and Ethiopians use January 6, and the Armenians celebrate on January 18. Pilgrims from all over the world visit the nearby Field of the Shepherds where the birth of Christ was announced but the truth is that the festivities of this time date to a period long before the Birth of Christ.

We have adopted many of the pagans’ customs and timetables to suit our own purposes and beliefs.

Pigeon goes for a reluctant swim

A pigeon/dove swimming in a pond must be unusual. One such character visited our fish pond and did more than take an anticipated drink. He went for a swim!

Our visitor was a rock dove, which is the species seen around our towns, but which is also kept as a domestic pigeon, sometimes for racing. With greyish plumage, long wings and distinctive white rump, our visitor was quite calm near humans. I suspect it was a domestic bird, perhaps a racing pigeon or town dweller that was lost.

It carried no owner’s identification but shared food with our garden birds, sometimes chasing off wood pigeons or collared doves although it seemed to tolerate smaller species. However, they didn’t like it because most flew away when the dove ventured too close.

Our smaller garden birds are quite happy in the presence of collared doves and wood pigeons and will even feed alongside Ferdinand, our occasional visiting pheasant.

Pigeons in city centres, towns and parklands are descended from rock doves that live in the wild. In the wild, they are widespread and prefer rocky stretches of coastline, especially in Scotland and Ireland, where, as their name suggests, they live and find nesting sites.

So how did one come to be swimming in our fish pond? Last autumn I covered the pond with fine-mesh netting to catch discarded leaves. I left the nets in situ over winter as a heron or even otter deterrent. When it snowed heavily my net was quickly covered and it was stretched to cause the central area to sink into the water.

The snow became too deep for me to rescue the net so it remained during winter with its load pressing down the central area, later covered with thick ice. At the thaw, the centre remained below water level to form a saucer-shaped secondary pond and it was quite astonishing to find birds of all kinds walking down the sloping mesh to drink or bathe.

Blackbirds loved it and so did Ferdinand the pheasant. When our pigeon arrived he copied them, walking down the netting to drink or bathe but with the arrival of spring and the awakening of the fish, I removed the net. The blackbirds realised it was no longer there and adopted other methods of drinking, i.e. perching on an inlet pipe to sip water, although I did see one male blackbird swimming for a short distance.

The pigeon didn’t seem to understand the net was no longer there. He strode along the rim of the pond and jumped off as if to land on the netting but instead dropped on to the water. I was then treated to the hilarious sight of this pigeon paddling and flapping like fury as he struggled either to take flight or reach the shore. Eventually, after a short but unexpected swim, he arrived at some water-plants, gained a foothold and took flight to land on our beech hedge.

None of the fish witnessed this drama – they seemed to think it was another visiting heron and fled for shelter. With the fish in hiding, the pigeon roosted on my wife’s study’s window ledge but there is no sign of it as I write these notes.

I believe that not every bird can swim – in some cases, their feet will not propel them through the water and their bodies and plumage are not designed to keep them afloat.

I understand that if some species, such as the domestic hen, went out of its depth in water, it would drown.