Seedlings and Superstitions

I finished a new commission last night, a portrait of a pair of little rats:

Some folks, they said it just wasn't the same without a wee story to go along with it, but I'd feel a bit awkward making something up about someone else's pets. Still, I suppose they could be members of a rare species of Amazonian vinerats, which, rather than being incubated in their mother's wombs, finish their gestation in the seedpods of a plant similar to corn. Once they've finished eating all the seedmeat, they come out and climb into the forest canopy, where they spend the rest of their lives hunting fruitbats. Or maybe, just maybe, the pods are eating them. Maybe they're pint-sized sacrifices to a cruel forest god. Then again, it's quite possible that nobody's eating anyone--the seedpods were already hollow, and these opportunistic rodents have simply climbed in on a lark.

I have, alas, done nothing but sleep and work since my last entry, so I leave you with this list of odd superstitions I entertain from time to time (generally when they'd make for a good story):

BIRDS, IN THE HOUSE

It's a bad omen if a bird of any species enters one's home uninvited. (Pet birds and birds brought in for consumption are exempt from this superstition--the offending avian must be on the premises without permission.)

ORIGIN: I can't remember where I got this one from, but I've noted variants on the theme cropping up in Chinese, Romany, and Scottish folklore. The unwelcome bird seems to be a fairly universal sign of disaster.

EVIDENCE: Since my return to Canada, two birds have staged impromptu breakins on the Rat's Nest. In both instances, bird-lime has been deposited in places from which it's proven difficult to remove properly. No-one, however, has ever died or been seriously injured during or immediately after a bird invasion. The jury's still out on this one.

BIRDS, STANDING GUARD OUTSIDE THE WINDOW

If a bird stands outside one's window for a protracted period of time, and no bird-feeder is present, it's a sign of death. If the bird is singing, or if it's a starling or magpie, it's a double hex.

ORIGIN: This one, I may have made up. I'm not sure. It just seemed like something that ought to be unlucky.

EVIDENCE: When I was in Sweden, a magpie followed me around the courtyard, standing guard outside the laundry room and outside my bedroom window. Attempts to shoo it away from the inside were in vain. I had to go outside and holler at it, before it moved on. The following week, both my rats got colds and had to be taken to the vet's. Furthermore, a pervert began appearing in the laundry room after that day, invariably reserving the same laundry times as I did, then hanging about and staring as I jammed my clothes in the washer. I think he may also have inspected my underclothes in the drying-closet. I observed him opening the closet door one day when I came in to check my wash. He said he'd just opened the wrong one, but I didn't believe him.

CORPSES, TOUCHING ONE'S SKIN

If, while being dressed for burial, a corpse flops about in such a way that its hand touches one's bare skin, it causes bad luck.

ORIGIN: I got this one out of a book on embalming, an older book. It had a section about death-related superstitions, and this was one of 'em.

EVIDENCE: I have no compelling evidence to support this one, alas. Nothing of noteworthy awfulness has ever happened to me following contact with the deceased. I did once get a dead rat attached to my hand, though--that was pretty unlucky. Poor wee thing panicked in the moment of extremity, alas, and bit down on the webbing between my thumb and my forefinger. Her jaws set in that position immediately, and had to be pried loose with a fork. I was torn between the grisly humour of the situation and the sadness of losing my pet. I didn't know whether to laugh or lament, so I settled for a good loud "Ouch!" On another occasion, a mole attached itself to the same portion of my anatomy, when I picked it up to rescue it from the neighbours' cat, but I can't remember if I had touched any corpses immediately prior to that incident. (Probably not. I was only four or five at the time.)

RATS, IN THE HOUSE

A rat, or a lifelike figure of a rat, in one's house is a sign of financial good fortune. This goes for rats both invited and invasive.

ORIGIN: Chinese folklore.

EVIDENCE: Not a scrap of it, unfortunately. While I have one real rat and countless dolls and figurines, they are all skyving off on their jobs. It is, however, possible that they're saving up their money-hoarding power for one big windfall, I suppose...but I'm not banking on it.

ANIMALS, IN THE DARK

It is a bad omen of the gravest sort to see an animal's eyes glowing in the dark, when it's impossible to make out the rest of said animal.

ORIGIN: Search me! It might've come from Scotland, though. I've hung onto this one a long time, so it stands to reason I picked it up during early childhood somewhere.

EVIDENCE: I have never, to the best of my recollection, actually seen an animal's eyes glowing, yet been completely unable to discern its form. Thus, I have no evidence to support this one--but no evidence to refute it, either! Take that!

DEAD FOLKS, ONLINE

It is bad luck to read the writings of the recently deceased on the Internet, without realizing they are dead.

ORIGIN: I don't think I made this up. I mean, I can't be the only one with a couple of digital-age superstitions up my sleeve, can I? (Oh, hell, I probably did. Still, it sounds like it ought to be true, as far as any of these things can be, doesn't it?)

EVIDENCE: Last week, I was reading an old Usenet post, without realizing the author had recently passed on. Then, on Saturday, I got trapped in a toilet and in a bus stop. I also dropped a pen on my left foot, nib first. There was still some ink on it, and there is now a little grey India-ink spot under my skin.

CRISPIN GLOVER

It is minorly bad luck to admit to finding Mr. Glover attractive.

ORIGIN: This one is a joke. Haw, haw.

EVIDENCE: I said I thought Crispin was sexy, in a bizarro sort of way, and everyone laughed at me--including my mother.