At the Fireside of a Tale

Come, dear guests, honoured guests! Draw nearer, sit ye in a semicircle, prick up your ears and hearken to a tale of two wondrous birds, such marvellous birds as ye shall not find in any kingdom under the sun. He who listens shall have health, and he who hears it to the end shall have happiness besides.

Once upon a time, in a fair city built upon both banks of a great broad river, there lived two stargazers. And they had two cats: the one ginger and cunning, the other black and quick-witted. Never had the stargazers any thought of bringing yet another creature into the house, for the ginger one was a jealous soul and the black one a mighty huntress, the terror of every sparrows and pigeons round about.

Yet one day those wizards of the heavens set forth on a far journey to see what the merchants from beyond the sea-ocean had brought. From stall to stall they wandered, gazing at strange wares never before seen in those parts. And there they beheld a golden cockatiel, fairer than any other bird from overseas. She was like to the Firebird herself: feathers of bright yellow, cheeks of orange, and a splendid crest like a little crown upon her head. And upon her leg she wore a ring, not of gold, but of emerald.

The stargazers could not pass her by. The merchant who brought rarities from the Thrice-Tenth Kingdom swore the bird was a cock and would sing so sweetly that even the Nightingale-Robber would be envious. They believed the merchant’s word.

They clean forgot the two cats waiting at home. They feared not the near company of the ginger-and-cunning and the black-and-quick-witted. Home they carried a huge great cage and settled therein the wondrous bird. And they named her Merkusha, after a certain outlandish rocker whose voice was so mighty that the very wind fell silent to listen.

Thus they lived a week, and another, until strange things were noticed. She would learn no human speech and shunned human hands. Then it seemed to the stargazers that the overseas merchant had deceived them: the bird in their cage was no cock at all, but a hen.

So they turned to the art of the heavens, than which no better craft has been devised in all the ages of the world. They asked their question and cast a horary chart…

25.11.2022 09:40 (GMT +2). RIGA, LATVIA.

And the wise ones saw a marvel: upon the very degree of the ascendant stood Mercury most significantly. And that Mercury was none other than their own bird Merkusha. They sought not the lord of the unhappy sixth house of small beasts, but trusted the heavenly picture that answered their question with wondrous truth. Mercury was the very matter that troubled their minds, their golden bird herself. And lo, Mercury lay in close conjunction with Venus, the lady of women. Thus they knew the merchant understood nothing of marvellous birds.

Moreover, Mercury stood in the first, wild half of fiery, choleric Sagittarius, the half that belongs to the untamed horse. And so their cockatiel was a wild creature: she would not perch on a hand, she hissed and nipped, and refused all human words. The stargazers understood they must make peace with this proud queen of birds, and no wonder they had named her so, for that foreign rocker was of Queen, after all.

Now, dear guests, you may ask: “And what if Mercury had not stood upon the ascendant?”

Then the stargazers would have looked to the lord of the sixth. That house belongs to our lesser brethren, to all beasts “smaller than a goat”, as the ancients said. And they would have seen that Venus, the womanly planet, ruled it, and that she too dwelt in the wild half of choleric Sagittarius, joined fast to Mercury. The judgement would have been the same.

Yet the answer grieved them not; they had grown too fond of their golden, wayward bird. And so they all lived in friendship: the cats, ginger-and-cunning and black-and-quick-witted, and the fiery, wild cockatiel, and the stargazers. And she sang like Freddie Mercury across four octaves, so that her wondrous voice carried even to the neighbouring houses.

Days and months passed, and nigh on two years went by. A warm autumn came. The stargazers saw that Merkusha had grown melancholy; her voice was no longer as of old, and ever more often she gazed with longing through the window at the free birds flying past. Her songs turned sad. Then they understood: Merkusha needed a true companion, or better still, a lady-friend. For every creature needs a heart’s comrade with whom to share joy and sorrow and to sing marvellous songs. The ginger cat had her black-and-quick-witted friend, but Merkusha, golden queen, singer and choleric, had none.

Once more they journeyed far, seeking another bird brought from the world’s edge. They found a merchant’s stall where birds were past counting were gathered: cockatiels of every hue, a stately grey parrot, tiny budgerigars, and many another creature. But their eyes fell upon a small grey cockatiel, plain and unremarkable at first glance.

Yet they resolved to trust no merchant again, nor even the silver saucer and the pouring apple. Once more they cast a chart and asked their question.

12.09.2024 15:22 (GMT +3). RIGA, LATVIA.

And they beheld: the cusp of the sixth house lay in earthy Taurus, ruled by Venus the bright evening star, who herself stood in airy, sanguine Libra. Thus they knew this grey bird, though modest in appearance, was no simple soul, but clever, sociable, and full of curiosity. For the sanguine signs give love of company and learning, unlike their fiery choleric queen.

They did not ponder long. They took the little grey bird home, that Merkusha might have a faithful, song-loving friend.

They knew not yet what name to give her, so they waited. They brought her into the house and presented her to the golden queen. And the small grey one, as the stars had foretold, settled in at once: she poked her beak into everything, feared nobody, and wished to befriend all. But the proud yellow queen at first regarded her with suspicion and coolness.

Days and nights passed, and the sages noticed that the little grey bird was strangely drawn to Merkusha’s emerald leg-ring. Then they remembered the hero of an outlandish tale called The Lord of the Rings, who was named Frodo and was charged to bear a ring of power and peril back to Mount Doom in Mordor and there destroy it, lest it ruin every living soul. So they named the grey bird Frodushka. And there she lived with them, ever trying to steal Merkusha’s emerald ring, harmless though it was.

A year has passed since then. And now they all live happily together as one family: the stargazers, the cats ginger-and-cunning and black-and-quick-witted, and the birds: Queen Merkusha and Frodushka, the grey and merry one. Together those two birds rule the house and outsing the whole white world, so that Freddie Mercury himself, up in the heavens, stops to listen and joins the chorus.

And here the tale is ended.

We were there, we tasted honey, though we drank no ale. We savoured sweetness and chased away sorrow. We saddled our steeds and galloped home. Health to him who listened! And happiness to him who heard it to the very end!

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