Augury (aka the birds and the bees)
I’ve been spending the last few days going for a brief nature walk each evening to learn more about the flora and fauna in the local area. There’s a little tributary running nearby (too small to be a river and a little large to be a creek, I’m inclined to call it a bayou for its size, but that seems like a regional faux pas) that has its own ecosystem I’ve been enjoying. This morning I watched some birds doing their bird thing while I sipped my coffee before turning my attention to the daily woo. As I was deciding on a deck to use, it occurred to me that I could try my hand dabbling at a bit of ornithomancy for a change.
Ornithomancy or augury (depending on whether you’re more drawn to Greek or Roman) is the art of reading omens from birds. If you enjoy working with tarot or oracle cards, think of it as a way to access a set when you don’t have yours on you. As a bonus, being able to read signs and symbols all around you is a way of shifting your divination so that it’s locally aware and links up where you are physically with where you might be emotionally or spiritually. Unfortunately, very little historical material has survived that give us the specific details of how to read these omens. But this doesn’t mean we can’t still try and recreate this practice with a little common sense and careful observation.
When I opened the door and stepped outside, there was a small flock of juvenile starlings hunting for their morning breakfast right in front of me. They ignored my presence as they intently pecked the ground foraging for insects. A bee flew in front of me, examining me for a moment before flying away. As I watched them, my eye was drawn to one of the younger females in particular. She was so intent on her work. A mourning dove swooped above them, and they briefly looked up before resuming their task. I was so caught up in watching this young female that I didn’t see what spooked the flock, but suddenly they all took off in a flurry, disappearing in an instant to the south. All except this one female, who had momentarily ducked her head down after a particularly juicy morsel and was completely unaware of her companions’ departure. She kept at it for another minute or two, oblivious that she was now alone.
When she did eventually notice that the others had left her behind, she looked around for a few moments, uncertain of what to do. Eventually, she spotted an older member of the flock about 30 meters to the north who’d also remained behind when the others fluttered away for unknown reasons. She flew to its side, where she stuck closer this time as she eventually resumed the hunt for breakfast.
Starlings are among the most social of birds, and they tend to stick close, so it was no surprise they all took off together as one when spooked. But spooked at what? If there’s any bird more easily startled than a starling, it’s a dove. And yet they all took off within seconds of this extremely cautious animal coming in for a landing nearby, ignoring that the dove’s presence was a sign the moment was a supremely peaceful one, with no danger anywhere to be seen.
While one of starlings’ messages to us is in their role as social, group-oriented birds, their iridescent coloring also reminds us that each of us is distinct, beautiful, and unique. The fact that our busy starling momentarily lost sight of the rest of the group as she went about her work doesn’t automatically mean she did the wrong thing. The appearance of the bee reminds us that we serve the larger community by doing our work diligently and without letting ourselves be blown off course by distractions. Even if the rest of the group reads the signs wrong because they were only listening to each other and not the rest of the world, the little starling knew what she was there to do and she kept doing it, reassured by the presence of the dove. And when she realized she’d been abandoned by her friends, she sought to reconnect with her group. This time, rather than following other inexperienced youngsters, she looked to the companionship of a more mature bird from which to take her cues.
If we are to learn from the birds (and the bee) today, let us take away the lesson that our work is done in and for a larger community, but that work can be easily blown off course when we allow that community to become insular and lose sight of what the rest of the world around us has to say. If you have reached a point where you have your doubts about the wisdom of the crowd you run with, trust that instinct. But don’t make the mistake of thinking that means you should go it alone. Instead, seek out a more experienced guide who will help you stay the proper course without abandoning your community or the work you’re there to do.
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