A bird’s eye view of old customs

In many northern areas, great attention is paid to the “Lucky Bod” or Lucky Bird who, by long tradition, should be the first person to enter the house after midnight on December 31 and so welcome the New Year. There were, or indeed are, several important factors to bear in mind – the Lucky Bird must be a male bachelor with dark hair, he must not be flat-footed, his eye-brows must not meet in the middle and he should carry into the house something that symbolises the necessities of life.

That symbol may be a single item or several pieces, but should include a piece of coal, a sprig of evergreen such as holly, a portion of bread, some money and a pinch of salt. These are the symbols of the necessities of life such as food, light and heat whilst the evergreen represents continuing life. He should place at least one of these gifts in the hearth and in return will be given a drink and a piece of ginger cake. The precise method of fulfilling this custom varies across this region.

Whilst in Yorkshire, the Lucky Bird should have black hair, further north into Co. Durham a fair-haired bachelor is preferred. Another custom celebrated at New Year across this region was apple wassailing. I am not sure whether it continues in some areas but the idea was to wish good health to the apple trees in the hope they would produce lots of fruit.

Wassail comes from an Anglo-Saxon word meaning “To be of good health” and the precise methods of celebration varied from place to place. In basic terms it involved eating, drinking, making merry, singing and dancing in the orchards. Usually, a bowl of hot ale was dashed upon the trees and in some areas, a dish of hot liquor with an apple floating in it was passed around so that the party-goers could enjoy a drink.

Across the country apple wassailing might be celebrated at other times. In some cases, it was held in the autumn, perhaps during Advent, (the four weeks before Christmas), or on the Feast of the Epiphany (January 6).

Before the calendar changes, New Year began on March 25 popularly known as Lady Day or to give its full pre-Reformation title “The Feast of the Annunciation of Our Lady, the Blessed Virgin Mary.” That was the day when contracts were signed, rents were paid and new tenancies were arranged. It was also the first day of the new legal year when March 25 was the official New Year’s Day.

After New Year’s Day, the days lengthen by a cock-stride as the nights become lighter and there is an old Yorkshire belief that the weather on the first three days of January rules the coming three months. Another old piece of weather-lore for January 1 is “Morning red, foul weather and great need ahead.”

Fascinating walk

An early December walk along the escarpment at Sutton Bank Top near Thirsk was a joy because the strong winds of that period had withered away, the sun was shining and it was unbelievably mild. The most noticeable thing during that short walk was the lack of wind; even modest breezes were absent.

In spite of the calmness, I was surprised to see three gliders floating in the heavens above us. They were fairly close together but were apparently hanging on invisible threads in the heavens. For a time, I wondered how on earth they could hang suspended and almost motionless without the aid of an engine or any other visible means of support.

The answer of course was the famous Sutton Bank thermals, currents of warm air that rise from the ground near the base of the famous cliffs with sufficient strength to carry gliders, balloons and birds into the heavens. There were no balloons in sight that day but we did spot a bird that was performing a very good imitation of a glider, or perhaps the gliders were emulating some of our soaring birds?

The bird was a kestrel and it was hanging in the sky with a glider directly above. A small bird of prey with a brown back and wings, darker wing tips and a tail it uses as a rudder, it is easily recognised by his ability to hover as if suspended on a string. Supported by the tiniest of wing movements and its rudder-like tail, the kestrel ignored our presence as it hunted for food in rough vegetation alongside the path to the Yorkshire Gliding Club.

Gliders and kestrel formed a perfect picture in the heavens but, of course, I did not have my camera with me; at frequent intervals, all four were in an almost symmetrical square above us, and all about the same height from the ground with the kestrel unconcerned about the gliders close presence almost directly above it. And then it pounced.

In a moment with legs and feet outstretched as it rushed to earth to almost come to the ground among the thick and rough grassland, it suddenly energized its wings to rise back into the heavens with a small creature dangling from its claws. I think it was a vole or shrew, and the unfortunate animal was carried onto the footpath a few yards ahead of us, and there swiftly and efficiently dealt with. Then the kestrel once more took to the air to resume its hunting. It joined the gliders in their silent hovering and all were still in position as we completed our stroll. Through-out that short experience, the kestrel showed no awareness of the gliders so close to it nor indeed did it worry about our presence.

It was a fascinating few minutes.

Songs for winter

On the topic of birds, few species can be heard singing during the winter. The robin is one exception but another is the forceful mistle thrush, otherwise known as a storm cock. It has gained this nickname from its habit of sitting high in a lofty tree and singing into the teeth of a gale or a snowstorm when other birds seldom make an appearance.

This bird has all the features of a song thrush except the latter’s delightful voice but it is slightly larger and its upper parts have a rather greyish appearance with distinctive white patches under the wings. However, its breast is spotted like other members of the thrush family such as our winter visitors, the redwings and fieldfares, and that helps to identify it. Its song somewhat resembles that of a blackbird which is a near cousin but its music can be considerably louder than a blackbird. It also has a loud and chattering alarm call.

As with other species, mistle thrushes sometimes form small flocks in winter as a form of protection against predators, but also a means of finding food. Enjoy its stormy music if you hear it, and a Happy New Year to all. end