I wish I could tell you there’s a legend about rooks and mistletoe. After all, there are many beliefs surrounding mistletoe, with their origins in Druid, Roman, and Norse legends. It wasn’t until the 1700s in the UK that people took to kissing under sprigs of mistletoe at Christmas time.

Note: Kissing rooks under the mistletoe is not recommended, no matter how much eggnog you’ve consumed.

The connection between mistletoe and rooks exists only (as far as I can tell) in my own corvid-obsessed brain.

When we visited the UK in the spring of this year, I had several bird-watching goals, one of which was to see some rookeries.

Imagine my excitement during our first week of the trip when I was sure I’d spotted my first one. We were staying with friends in the beautiful Chilterns when I saw this tree in an old churchyard. Rooks’ nests, for sure!

Alas, no — mistletoe. Mind you, I was pretty excited to see this plant growing in the wild for the first time in my life having only experienced the plastic or needle-felted versions up until then.

It’s a pretty amazing plant, growing like giant disco balls amid the branches of the trees. Semi-parasitic, it acquires some food via photosynthesis while also relying on the host tree for nutrients. The sticky white berries are poisonous to humans but great food for birds.

The word “mistletoe” comes from the Old English words mistel, meaning “dung”, and tan, meaning “twig”. While not an especially romantic name (especially for something you might be kissing under) it does accurately sum up how mistletoe is spread to trees by birds leaving seed-filled droppings after snacking on the berries.

You’ll be happy to hear that I did eventually find rookeries. Several of them!

Here’s the first one I spotted near Portmeirion in North Wales.

The first clue that this was, in fact, a rookery, was the presence of rooks! Lots of adult rooks and very noisy baby rooks.

It’s so interesting to see corvids raising their young in a big cooperative nursery. I’m used to the very territorial behaviour of our local nesting crows and their strict “you stay in your half a block of territory and I’ll stay in mine or there will be big trouble” approach.

Below is a large rookery that friends took me to visit on Anglesey. I have the best friends!

We saw another big rookery on a day trip to Hexham in the North East of England. On this occasion, Phillip, my cousin and her husband patiently waited for me for at least half an hour while I watched the goings-on. I also have the best relatives!

The closest I got to rooks on the ground was on a day trip to St. Abbs in Scotland, where rooks and jackdaws were flying together.

I don’t know any legends about rooks, but I do have a good anecdote.

This was told to me by an Irish man I met on the street when we were both watching an owl in a downtown Vancouver tree. He told me that, back in Ireland, his aunt had a rookery near her cottage. She felt that the rooks were unlucky so she tried to smoke them out. Unfortunately, she ended up burning down her cottage in the process so I guess, in a way, she was right …

So, have a wonderful holiday season and remember, rook-wise:

• no kissing them under the mistletoe (or anywhere else)
• in general, just live and let live!

And finally, Festive Greetings from the June Hunter Images Board of Directors.

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