Welcome to A Wild Green Heart, and to 2026 - though it doesn't feel a particularly welcome start to the year in the wider world! I hope wherever you are that you found some sources of respite and slowness over the festive period.
I made no festive plans this Christmas, beyond having both my boys here together for a few days, which was a deep, quiet joy. I'm very grateful to my November self, who announced without conscious forethought that I was going to do absolutely nothing over the Christmas period. What a great decision that was!
The only exception to that was my commitment to observing the omen days, between Boxing Day and Twelfth Night, ie 6th January. I've spoken about the omen days on here before, but as it's the main topic for today's post, I'll give a brief outline again now.
While there are other, similar old customs in Europe, such as Rauhnächte in Germany, the practice I'm personally evolving for observing the Omen Days is more based on the Celtic tradition. Its essence is about divining oracles from the natural world during these twelve days, in which the sign from each day pertains to a corresponding calendar month in the year ahead: 26th December is the omen for January, 27th is for February, and so on.
This period was also known as the intercalary days. In other words, these twelve days used to fall outside of regular calendar time, and that's very much the sense I received from this period: days outside of time. In fact, other than seeing my sons, I pretty much became a hermit for this period, and barely saw anyone I know. This was beneficial in two ways: firstly, it gave me the opportunity to focus on taking an attentive walk each day, without having to worry about not having energy for anything or anyone else (which frankly, I didn't). Secondly, it has left me hungry to be seeing people again, and I'm grateful to have had a couple of opportunities for human connection this week. I suspect I've valued these much more as a result of my extended time largely apart from other people.
This was my second time of observing the Omen Days. The first, a year ago, gave me a supportive framework throughout the year, and really helped me make sense of each month as I progressed through it. So, like last time, I once again decided to ask for omens only in the form of birds. It's where my deepest connection with other creatures seems to lie, and I feel I've got so much more to learn from these beings. One step at a time and all that.
Last time round there was a mixture of perseverance, frustration and grace involved. Days where I felt it was very unlikely I would even see a bird, I was sent a clear visitation. Days where it seemed obvious I would find an omen were spent wandering in woodland with barely a sign of life. But every day offered something, and once I had my omens, I noted them down. However, I didn't begin to look into the possible symbolism and meaning until that month rolled around.
This time, while there was a similar mix of clear visitations and long searching, it felt like the practice evolved quite organically into a deeper, richer form - probably aided by my more singular focus for this twelve day period. Firstly, this time I planned my locations a little more deliberately. On four of the days, my omen wanders were made at Pomona, with eight different locations for the remaining days. This felt like a good balance, and also enabled me to visit all the local green places that I feel some kind of kinship with. It also allowed me to be exposed to a greater variety of environments, and potentially more species of birds. Finally, it also created space for any places that came strongly to mind to be visited that day.
The second evolution began on the second morning. Whilst meditating, my day one omen bird came to mind, and as I considered it, I found a question forming in my mind pertaining to the sign. This felt so generative that I ended up doing it every day, which unfolded into a deepening process of understanding some of the meaning for each month ahead of time. This also created space for another process, in which patterns and themes have emerged for the whole year, and in which some of the bird omens recurred again later on in relation to that day's omen. I'll go into all of this in a bit more detail shortly.
At this stage I'm caught between my almost constant desire to share every detail of what unfolded, for the benefit of readers who are wishing to begin or deepen their own practices of reviving old cultural traditions and connecting more deeply to the land; and, on the other hand, holding information back that feels more sacred or personal. I'm aiming to find the right balance here, so I'll say more about some of my bird omens than others. However, I'll definitely speak openly about my January omen and the question it is asking, because it feels relevant to this space.
Day One: January - Long-Tailed Tits
My Boxing Day walk took place at Pomona. It was wonderfully quiet, and I encountered several birds as I walked and sat. However, one species showed themselves to me three times, in three different locations - long-tailed tits. I love these little birds, their tiny round bodies offset by their unusually long tails. They are very communal birds, and each time I saw them there were numerous birds together, chattering away and generally seeming like they were having a great time together.
I don't know much about them, though, so I opted to look online for some symbolism, knowing that January would be rolling around soon. Here's some of what I found. Firstly, on a light note, I discovered that they have several amusing folk names in different parts of Britain, including mumruffin, poke pudding and bum barrel, all of which seem beautifully apt.
On a more meaningful note, was this, which I found here:
Spiritually, the Long-Tailed Tit encourages us to value our connections with others. It may appear to remind us to nurture our relationships, support our friends and family, and remember that we are never truly alone. This totem emphasizes the importance of building strong communities and networks, suggesting that our collective power can help us navigate life’s difficulties.
Helpfully, this website also had information pertaining to the context in which the bird was encountered. For someone coming across a flock or group, this was the suggested meaning:
A flock suggests the importance of community and connection. It could be a nudge to engage more deeply with your social groups, or to seek out new communities where you can find support and companionship.
Part of the Alexandra Park pigeon horde community
As I sat in meditation the next morning and these marvellous mumruffins came to mind, the question that formed itself immediately and forcefully in my mind was this:
“What are you offering to your communities?”
Subsequently I've spent some time listing the various communities I'm part of, considering what, if anything, I'm offering to them, and whether that measures up to what I feel like Life is asking of me in this season. One of those communities is right here, those of you who regularly or occasionally read or listen to these musings; those of you I know, and those I don't. It's a space in which I try to be meaningfully honest about my life, experiences, wild encounters, and creative processes, so it seems valid to ask all of you this question:
What would you like me to be offering here?
Is there something you'd like more of? Less of? Something completely different? I would love to hear your answers to those questions in the comments!
If I were to begin answering it myself, I would start with what I consciously hold back from this space, namely the small number of stories that have come to me from interactions with more-than-human beings and places, and which I value as sacred parts of my offering to Life. This is because these stories are unapologetically oral beings, alive in a way that the printed or recorded word cannot possibly be.
They require a particular kind of attention, including feeding by those who are receiving them - by which I mean, offering considered reflections on what they mean to you; what thoughts, feelings, or bodily sensations they evoke; where you find yourself in them; how they speak to your life. However, if there are enough interested people, I'm open to offering occasional live online storytelling sessions for that purpose, in which the story can be appropriately honoured. Please do say if this is something you'd be interested in! I'll pursue it further if there's enough interest.
February, March and April Omens
I'll share an overview of my next three omens, because they include examples of birds that made themselves apparent in very different ways, and because, curiously, like some other months this year, though they have their own focus, they also seen to interrelate as a group.
My second omen day walk was local, but in the opposite direction to Pomona, so largely urban, but including some local parks. I had a sense at some point that I needed to walk past a local playing field near my GP surgery, so I wandered there first. The only bird in the whole field was a gorgeous crow. I wandered closer, partly out of curiosity, and partly because I wanted to see if there were any other birds around. Black bird omens coincided with months featuring difficult personal terrain in 2025, and part of me was keen to avoid that!
Nope, no one else here, I’ve checked!
As I approached, crow began to caw loudly and insistently. I had the distinct feeling that the messenger was indeed the message! When I turned to walk away, they flew to the top of the tall fence around the edge of the field and kept up the cawing. It was pretty clear I was in the right place and there was a choice of one! I saw a few other birds out and about, but knew this was a done deal.
Day three was another quiet walk at Pomona. The were very few birds about. I could hear a song thrush singing away, their melody sounding both mournful and cheerful all at once in the bitter air, but I couldn't catch sight of them. In the end, the sign was two birds, both of them sat together in Magic Pool: a cormorant and a swan. There wasn't really anyone else around!
On day four I took a longer walk that moved between a woodland area and a water park. I encountered a magpie making an unusual call almost as soon as I was out of the car, then a group of long-tailed tits, though I was keen not to replicate omens unless they seemed insistent. There was the usual variety of water birds on the lake, but nobody stood out.
Eventually I decided to take a walk along a tributary stream, where a few years ago there were regular kingfisher sightings. My legs were growing tired and I declared, “whoever I see along here is my omen, surely!” As soon as the words were out, a magpie swooped across my path and landed on a nearby branch over the stream. I realised I was being avoidant again, and acknowledged to the magpie that I accepted him as my sign. After that everything went a bit mad!
Firstly, pausing at a bench I often rest on, I caught right of a glorious heron stood on the other side of the stream. I moved slowly down to the bank to get a better look. “Sorry fella, I've already got my omen”, I heavy-heartedly admitted.
A very short way further along the path I noticed a chap with a huge telephoto lens on his camera. Was he looking at the heron? I didn't think so, he seemed too animated, so I hurried over to discover what he'd seen. I suspected it was a kingfisher, so I was a bit annoyed not to be able to have them as an omen; but it turned out to be even more unusual. There in the little tributary was an otter!
Otter madness
We watched the otter swim about, catch a fish, eat it on the bank, then have a bit of a shake and clean before swimming off. What's more, in all the excitement, a kingfisher did fly past, though I missed them, so transfixed was I by a creature I've never seen in the wild before. On top of all this, the photographer told me he'd been watching a peregrine falcon resting near the top of a nearby pylon! I used energy I didn't have to walk the extra quarter of a mile there and back, only to find they had flown. But even after all that, magpie was my omen for April. This was easily the day most full of unusual encounters!
Interpreting Days 2-4
After the first day, I began meditating intentionally on the previous days omen each morning, asking for a meaning or a question to arise. Here's what came.
Day two’s insistent crow asked me this question: “What of your shadow do you still need to own?” This question landed heavily, coming as it did not long after my very intense period of working with dreams leading up to the winter solstice. Night after night, aspects of my shadow had showed up, and eventually it was clear I need to work consciously with these aspects of myself, to carry them into the next phase of life. So it isn't that surprising that crow arrived to bring that work to the forefront in February.
The pairing of cormorant and swan was interesting. I don't know how I knew they were a pair, it just somehow seemed right. I've started listening to Bill Plotkin's influential book Soulcraft in the mornings, and before my meditation for day three’s omen, these words from chapter two, speaking about the journeys of spirit and of soul - of ascent and descent - landed particularly clearly:
The upward and downward journeys support one another. Although distinct, even opposite, they are the two halves of a single path toward fulfilment and wholeness. While either journey alone is better than neither, the two together constitute a more complete spirituality. Although opposites in one sense, soul and spirit are not in any way opposed to one another.
When I sat to meditate shortly afterwards, I discovered Cormorant and Swan were asking me to “work towards a healthy balance of soul and spirit in March, with which to approach the equinox.”
Then there's magpie, who swooped into my path on day four. Once the previous two day's messages were clear, magpie’s easily came into focus:
“Once the spirit and soul are in balance, the ego and shadow joined and whole, then it is time to still yourself and seek the blue in the magpie's tail… What outrageous beauty and wonder do you find where opposites meet?”
Wow, what a fantastically intriguing question!
And I find it equally intriguing that this year's omens, with a little more focus and attention, have revealed how they are working together across the year. Of the other eight days, I received two omens that stand alone like the long-tailed tits, and three pairs of months that are connected in some way. I'm not going to go into much detail about anything past April, but there are a few things I'd like to add from my walks pertaining to the rest of the year.
Firstly, the day I saw my first ever goldcrest, washing in a stream and flitting about by the water. I've heard them before, including at Pomona, but never consciously seen one. However, I had a great view of this little beauty!
Then there was the most urban of my walks, a day I needed to go into the city centre on an errand, and decided to walk in along the canal as my omen walk. I was not paying the same quality of attention that I did the rest of the omen days, and I was scarcely looking when I was practically assaulted by a male blackbird on the towpath! He flew round a corner and was centimetres away from colliding with me. All the black birds seem aware that I'm trying to avoid them this time round after last year's difficult black bird months!
Once in town, I decided to pop into Waterstone’s before going where I needed to. I had an inner nudge as I walked through the door to be open to omens in there, too, despite being far removed from nature. I recalled this nudge while in the sci-fi and fantasy section, and turned to a table only to see a cover dominated by an image of a raven. As if that wasn't enough, the book I went in to buy also has a crow (or possibly a raven) on the cover. There was really no avoiding the black bird omens that day!
Whatever way you look at all this, one thing that seems clear, and which I'm really trying to emphasise here, is that Life is continually offering us guidance. All we ever really need to do is pay attention, though a framework of ritual or commitment definitely helps. In fact, the main blockage to receiving guidance seems to be simply not believing it's available. Richard Rohr said it best, in my opinion:
What you can trust is that you are being guided; in fact, almost everything is seen as guidance. It's your ability to trust that there is guidance available which allows it to become guidance.
A couple more of my encounters before I finish. There was the day I had my closest ever encounter with a buzzard. I see them fairly frequently, circling high or perched on lampposts or roadside fences, but these are usually distant or fleeting glimpses. This one, though I couldn't identify them at first, was sat in the Tree of Truth and Love, a friend I've written about before on here. In fact, there were a couple of omens in familiar trees, and this also added further depth to this year's practice.
The bird I saw was at quite a distance, it just looked large and brown. By the time I got closer, it flew off, obscured by branches. I circled round to the other side, which involved following the path along for a bit and then through a meadow. From there I could see the bird was back in the same tree, and I was able to approach closer from this side, with a slightly easier approach, and to confirm it was a large raptor. When they flew off again, this time I had a clear view of them, confirming them as a magnificent buzzard.
Finally, I want to acknowledge that there were two more walks on which the birds that were my omen that day were sharing space with groups of long-tailed tits. Their proximity suggested to me that the questions augured by these particular birds need to be addressed in the context of community, or that communities of support need to be particularly involved in those months. Again, incredibly useful information, and a distinct evolution from last year's omen days practice.
I'm sure I'll have more to say about my Omen Birds as the year goes on. For now I'm simply grateful for such a wildly unfolding experience - yet another one that both astonishes me with what is already possible, and also shows me just how much more I need to learn to get even remotely close to a faithful practice of indigenous culture.
Thanks for being here and reading this section of my journey with our bird kin. There'll be another post in a couple of weeks. Until then, Wild Green Blessings, and please do respond to my earlier question in the comments: what else would you like me to be offering here? And are you potentially interested in live online storytelling events? Thanks.
