Folly of the Faithful Canine

An Easter Hare was mentioned in the 16th century,
Then known among the Lutherans of southwest Germany.
This hare delivered candy, eggs, and sometimes even toys,
But only, like Kris Kringle, to the better girls and boys.

So why a hare? Some claim the pagan goddess of the spring
From whom we got the “Easter” label must have had a thing
For hares. That’s unsupported by the Venerable Bede,
The only old-time source on her, so most have disagreed.

The ancient Greeks and Romans thought a hare could reproduce
Without a mate (their concept of biology was loose).
Because of that, medieval Christian scholars formed a link
Between the Virgin Mary and the hare, or so some think.

Consider the three hares as well, a circular motif
That came to be connected with the Trinity belief,
Although their first depiction’s in a Chinese temple cave.
We can’t say why for sure; no explanation has been saved.

Some note a similarity between a lapwing’s nest
In grasslands in the springtime and where hares would opt to rest,
Creating the impression that the mammals could lay eggs.
A wish to hide the truth of egg dyes gave the legend legs.

And why the eggs? Some Christians wouldn’t eat them during Lent,
Which made them quite inviting when the Lenten season went.
They also formed a symbol of the tomb that Jesus fled.
That covers all the theories for the practice that I’ve read.

The ancient Babylonians began the year with spring.
(OK, the first new moon thereof would be the closest thing.)
The Romans followed suit by starting off on March the 1st,
Still early for the equinox, but hey, it could be worse.

Alas, they had no designated months beyond December.
I bet the days until that March were tricky to remember.
Then Numa, second king of Rome, appended two months more.
They formed the end at first, so why do those now come before?

It seems the lunar calendar was still a slipping mess,
And Julius Caesar found a solar version a success.
As long as he was changing things, he sought a new beginning,
And Janus, God of doorways, made an easy underpinning,

So January thus became the first month of the year.
It also lined up well with folks’ political careers,
For consuls entered office on that very starting day.
(You’d think they saw it coming from a country mile away.)

But when Rome fell, some countries chose another day to start.
The Feast of the Annunciation spoke to Christian hearts,
So many parts of Europe went for March the 25th.
They thought it bad to pick a day that’s based in pagan myth.

Pope Gregory saw fit to change the calendar again.
The Protestants and Orthodox resisted him, but then
They found his system practical. And that, my friends, is why
Most nations have the January starting date apply.

Thanksgiving days go back at least to Hebrew folk of yore.
The Puritans had many, taking cues from scripture lore.
The first known civic one began in 1623,
Two years beyond a feast that would go down in history.

The feast was said to last three days at some point in the fall,
Most likely circa Michaelmas, which isn’t close at all
To modern-day tradition’s late November; nonetheless,
That’s not the biggest issue with the myth as I assess.

It’s true that Plymouth colonists had gathered lots of food
With help from local Indians the Pilgrims would include,
But natives weren’t invited till they came prepared for war,
When celebrators’ gunshots were too noisy to ignore.

The Wampanoag sachem Ousamequin sought a pact
Against the Narragansett if they ever should attack.
Not every Wampanoag wanted Pilgrims on their side
In light of some enslavement, but the groups were still allied.

The prior winter wiped out half the Pilgrim population.
The sachem thus appealed to the survivors’ desperation.
He called upon Tisquantum, known as Squanto, who would teach
Techniques for catching eels and growing corn in English speech.

But how’d he know the language well? The answer lies in pain:
An English crew abducted him and sold him off to Spain.
He then escaped to England. By the time he got back home,
His people, the Patuxet, had succumbed to plagues unknown.

Indeed, the Plymouth colony was built upon their ground,
The signs of a Patuxet village nowhere to be found.
Tisquantum, too, would catch disease and die a few years hence.
(I hope you will forgive me for a poem this intense.)

Another thing to note is that by colonists’ accounts,
A bunch of different animals were served in great amounts.
The turkey wasn’t prominent, and nobody had pie
(For lack of wheat and butter, just in case you wondered why).

And finally, although the feasters probably said grace,
No mention of “thanksgiving” can be found in any trace
Of words by those who’d been there; it was more about relief
From famine and the other factors causing so much grief.

George Washington declared the first U.S. Thanksgiving Day,
But whether he had Plymouth’s feast in mind, I couldn’t say.
The myth grew more important in the 19th century.
Today, it’s not so honored, but it still appeals to me.

In modern times, the only day we’re apt to call “the ides”
Is March 15; in ancient Rome, it typically applied
To 13th days of months, except in those with 31:
March, May, July, October. Yeah, that calendar was fun,
With winter months unnamed for 61 unnumbered days.
I know folks didn’t farm then, but the thought can still amaze.
In broader use, “the ides” could well include the prior week,
Which followed on the nones (Day 5 or 7). How oblique.
The kalends was Day 1; that seems more worthy of a name,
But counting back from each of these evokes a tricky game.
Why subdivide like that? To match the phases of the moon,
Its fullness on the ides. Of course, it wasn’t quite in tune.
The Romans later talked about “the last year of confusion”
Before they changed the calendar. I’d reach the same conclusion.

The bulk of U.S. presidents
Have had some pets in residence,
Most often dogs and cats, of course,
And early prezes rode a horse.
A bunch kept several types of birds
And livestock often found in herds
And rabbits, fish—but let’s move on:
A badger on the White House lawn?
Raccoons, opossums, lions, bears,
A bobcat and hyena there?
Some alligators lived there too.
Some pets delivered to a zoo:
A wallaby, a little duiker,
Elephants, and two young tigers—
Then again, the last may be
A hoax with similarity
To someone else’s real-life gift.
Those days were ripe to make a myth.
Exotic pets were mostly dealt
To rugged Teddy Roosevelt
And Calvin Coolidge; since their days,
There’s not been nearly such a craze
For presidents collecting pets
That call for very special vets.

In lore, ancient China’s Jade Emperor hosted
A race for all critters within his domain.
The first twelve to finish would garner the honor
Of years in the zodiac bearing their name.

The end of the race involved crossing a river.
The ox took his buddy the rat for a ride.
The rat then hopped off to place first with the ox
A close second. Their friendship regardless abides.

You’d think that the dragon would fly to first place,
But it stopped to make rain for a village in drought,
Then blew on a log for a rabbit to ride
Into fourth, with the tiger just beating it out.

The horse didn’t notice the snake wrapped around
A front hoof till it reached the home (literal) stretch.
The sight of the snake shocked the horse, who would settle
For seventh. And I thought the rat was a wretch.

The monkey, the sheep, and the rooster teamed up.
In some tellings, they somehow acquired a raft.
The sheep came in eighth place, the monkey in ninth,
And the rooster in tenth. Did he sit at the aft?

Eleventh place went to the dog, who took time
For a bath in the river. And lastly, the pig
Had stopped for some food and a nap, but at least
It completed the dozen. The honor was big.

A term some churches use is on occasion misapplied:
“Immaculate Conception.” Now, I don’t mean to deride,
But using it in ref’rence to the common Christian claim
That Mary was a virgin when the fetal Jesus came
Is apt to cause confusion or attract some scornful looks,
Not just from theologians or the readers of their books.
Instead, it means that Mary never had the taint of sin
And therefore would be worthy to accept the Lord as kin.
I’m not about to make a case the tenet’s wrong or right.
I merely wish to bring the terminology to light.

You’ve likely learned a fashion rule that says to not wear white
When Labor Day has passed, but what could make it impolite?
One theory: In the old days, white was quite the mark of class.
It showed the wearer didn’t do the work that would amass
A lot of filth on clothing; people didn’t like a show-off.
It also might suggest the wearer had a plan to go off
To someplace warm, a luxury most folk could not afford.
In later years, the upper crust was largely in accord,
And thus the rule would serve to help point out the nouveau riche
Who didn’t know that wearing white would constitute a breach
Of etiquette. Of course, the reason could be just pragmatic
For anyone residing where the weather isn’t static,
As white reflects the sunlight and is good for beating heat.
The fashionistas may have made the practice seem elite.
In case you wonder when to bring back white, Memorial Day
Is deemed the start of fashion’s summer (yes, it’s far away).
That said, the 2020s see the white taboo declining.
I’m glad; I like to wear it other times and not hear whining.

Most languages call Easter by an unrelated name
From Greek and Latin pascha. Why is English not the same?
Perhaps the Anglo-Saxons wanted distance from the Jews
And Pesach, so they settled on a pagan term to use.
That strikes me as ironic, but it hardly is unique:
Consider where we get the names of days within the week.

In any case, the Venerable Bede’s the only source
From olden days to tell us how the English took this course:
Eosturmonath, month to praise Eostre, based upon
A Proto-Indo-European goddess of the dawn.
It isn’t mere coincidence that “Easter” starts with “east.”
The dawn is also fitting for a resurrection feast.

The month’s renamed to April; that’s a mystery as well.
Some honored Aphrodite on its first day, so they tell,
But others cite a Latin word for “open” in allusion
To blooming plants or spring itself, a cause for some confusion.

Today marks the start of the Year of the Dragon,
Which differs from all other signs
By taking its name from a beast out of myth
(Not Komodo or other such kinds).

So why did that happen? I haven’t a clue.
Do you think that the ancient Chinese
And similar cultures believed in just one
Type of fantasy creature? Oh, please.

I’d wish for a zodiac loaded with critters
Of legend, each one of them rad.
A Year of the Phoenix, the Kraken, the Roc,
Or the Unicorn wouldn’t be bad.

That said, I don’t put any stock in the claim
That the signs hold significant sway.
A mythical bunch might dissuade many people
From shaping their worldview that way.