Eating wrens and other small birds

While there’s much speculation about the origins and meanings behind “The Cutty Wren,” for our purposes, we’re going assume that like everything, it has a hidden Pagan origin that has been corrupted over the years.  The wren, in unverified European lore, corresponds to the Holly King that rules from Midsummer to Midwinter.  The cock robin corresponds to the Oak King (sometimes called the Ivy King) that rules from Midwinter to Midsummer.  Twice a year they battle to see who will rule for the next half of the year.

It’s been speculated that this tradition stems from the Celtic (and other groups’) sacrifice of a “Year King”, which fits perfectly with the theme of the
“Cutty Wren” and the season of Yule.

In more modern times, the wren is symbolically hunted on the day after Christmas (St. Stephen’s Day), a dummy wren is attached to a pole, and a dance follows.  During the triumphant post-hunt procession of the wren, a monetary collection is taken up by the hunters or “wren boys.”

The tradition of the cutty wren can easily be incorporated into modern Pagan practice during the Yule season.  The easiest way is to take a cue from the wren boys and make a monetary contribution to a cause.  Since the wren hunt is all about sacrifice, taking a monetary present that someone has given you and passing it along would be extremely fitting.  Another easy way to remember the wren is to eat a small game bird.  While modern Americans are no longer legally suppose to eat small song birds, it was not uncommon for our colonial forefathers to enjoy savory pies stuffed full of sparrows, wrens, robins, and other backyard visitors.  However, doves are still legal, and farm-raised pigeons (which are really doves) can be obtained at some of the fancier food markets.  If you want the “real” experience, consider killing and dressing the bird yourself.  Eating the wren or its representative is tasty way to internalize its magical significance.

Can’t find a dove?  Roosters are another bird representative of the Yule season since they symbolize the rising Sun.  Live roosters are available at many flea markets and small animal auctions.

If you want an even more primal experience, you can cut the rooster’s head off with a knife while you hold him tucked under your arm.  This method makes it easier to collect his blood for magical use.  For a healthier (and less messy) plucking alternative, consider pulling the skin off the carcass once your bird has been beheaded.  It’s a lot easier than plucking and scalding.  Rooster meat can be really tough and it needs to be cooked (or pre-cooked) in either a crock pot or a pressure cooker.  Brining the meat before use also aids in tenderizing it.

The wren hunt, like all hunts, can be sexually charged.  Sometimes the best sacrifices are of ourselves in bed.  Who will be wren and who will be the robin?

http://www.tate.org.uk/context-comment/video/music-medium-ruth-ewan-cutty-wren

Who killed Cock Robin?
I, said the Sparrow,
with my bow and arrow,
I killed Cock Robin.
Who saw him die?
I, said the Fly,
with my little eye,
I saw him die.
Who caught his blood?
I, said the Fish,
with my little dish,
I caught his blood.
Who’ll make the shroud?
I, said the Beetle,
with my thread and needle,
I’ll make the shroud.
Who’ll dig his grave?
I, said the Owl,
with my pick and shovel,
I’ll dig his grave.
Who’ll be the parson?
I, said the Rook,
with my little book,
I’ll be the parson.
Who’ll be the clerk?
I, said the Lark,
if it’s not in the dark,
I’ll be the clerk.
Who’ll carry the link?
I, said the Linnet,
I’ll fetch it in a minute,
I’ll carry the link.
Who’ll be chief mourner?
I, said the Dove,
I mourn for my love,
I’ll be chief mourner.
Who’ll carry the coffin?
I, said the Kite,
if it’s not through the night,
I’ll carry the coffin.
Who’ll bear the pall?
We, said the Wren,
both the cock and the hen,
We’ll bear the pall.
Who’ll sing a psalm?
I, said the Thrush,
as she sat on a bush,
I’ll sing a psalm.
Who’ll toll the bell?
I said the Bull,
because I can pull,
I’ll toll the bell.
All the birds of the air
fell a-sighing and a-sobbing,
when they heard the bell toll
for poor Cock Robin.

 

These folks wish you all the best during the Yule season:

Mystic Artisans: https://www.facebook.com/mysticartisans

Passion And Soul: http://passionandsoul.com/

Knotjokin Rope Floggers: http://www.knotjokin.etsy.com

Tonia Brown www.thebackseatwriter.com

To Hunt the Cunt and Other Country Matters

Hamlet: Lady, shall I lie in your lap?
Lying down at Ophelia’s feet.
Ophelia: No, my lord.
Hamlet: I mean, my head upon your lap?
Ophelia: Ay, my lord.
Hamlet: Do you think I meant country matters?
Ophelia: I think nothing, my lord.
Hamlet: That’s a fair thought to lie between maids’ legs. (Hamlet III.ii.111-20)
My Mistress’ Cunny

1. My mistress is a hive of bees
In yonder flowery Garden:
To her they come with loaden thighs,
To ease them of their burden.
As under the bee-hive lieth the wax,
And under the wax is honey,
So under her waist her belly is placed -
And under that, her cunny.

2. My mistress is a mine of gold,
Would that it were her pleasure
To let me dig within her mould
And roll among her treasure!
As under the moss the mould doth lye,
And under the mould is mony,
So under her waist her belly is placed -
And under that, her cunny.
3. My mistress is a morn in May,
Which drops of dew down stilleth:
Where’er she goes to sport and play,
The dew down sweetly trilleth.
As under the sun the mist doth lye,
So under the mist it is sunny,
So under her waist her belly is placed -
And under that, her cunny.

4. My mistress is a pleasant spring,
That yieldeth store of water sweet,
That doth refresh each wither’d thing
Lies trodden under feet.
Her belly is both white and soft,
And downy as any bunny,
That many gallants wish full oft
To play but with her cunny.
5. My mistress hath the magick sprays,
Of late she takes such wondrous pain
That she can pleasing spirits raise,
And also lay them down again.
Such power hath my tripping doe,
My pretty little bunny,
That many would their lives forego,
To play but with her cunny.

 

 

A lot of men like cunts.  Some women like cunts.  All women have cunts.  A great majority of people came from cunts.  Cunts are an important part of Wicca and Paganism.  Despite all this, and the literary and musical evidence presented above, cunts and coneys are not linked in the way many people (myself included) think.  In college, my history of the English Language professor told us that the word cunt was derived from the word coney, an older word for rabbit or hare, and rabbit words like conejo, that have Latin roots .  I believed her.  I had no reason not to.  In fact, I’ve propagated that misinformation on many occasions.  However, according to Karl Hagen, in his article “The Etymology of ‘Cunt’”, this is not the case.  If you’re up for some English geeky reading, check out the article: http://www.polysyllabic.com/?q=node/77

Despite this, there is a certain fascination with cunts and an unmistakable link to rabbits, cats, beavers, and other animals.  Is it just because all of the above are furry unless shaved or that all of the above like to be petted (I don’t really know about outside beavers, but my beaver likes to be petted)?  It’s a curious rabbit hole to go down upon.  Perhaps, just like the animals associated with the cunt, the ladies who possess them can be quite fun to “hunt”!  
In this new series, we’ll be exploring several things: rabbits and hares in nonexistent modern Pagan mythology, hunting/fishing/and trapping and how it fits in with Paganism and the Wiccan Rede, fur fetishes, and PETA. 
As I said above, a great majority of humans originally transitioned from their mother into this world via a cunt, and a great majority of humans were made when their mother’s cunt received their father’s penis.  To the ancients, cunts were something of a mystery.  Life sprang from them.  They were spots of great pleasure and great pain.  They could bleed with out actually being injured.  The mysteries behind the cunt were blended with other mysteries of the world, which were attributed to the Goddess–since science wasn’t there to explain away everything.
The exposed cunt became a fertility symbol in many cultures that would be openly displayed and honored along with images of penis.  Even today, fertility in one form or another drives everything, just as it did in ancient times.
Irish Sheila Na Gig
But in time, science did develop and start to explain away all the mysteries of the cunt, and the Goddesses behind the mystical cunt were gradually forgotten.
Scientist even started recording cunt anomalies.  The largest cunt thought to exist belonged to Anna Swan, a giant from Scotland.  Interestingly enough, she also bore the largest baby ever born.

So, if you enjoy simple country pleasures, go hunt a cunt and honor the Goddess in the simplest and purest way possible–fuck her silly!
These folks appreciate the mysteries of the cunt:
Erotic Sensations http://eroticsensations.us/