Superstition burrows deep into our psyche if we allow it, and can be difficult to dismiss as nonsense.
Most of us avoid walking under ladders but that’s probably just common sense or simply adherence to Health and Safety strictures.
Black cats and the number thirteen don’t bother me but I do feel a sense of unease when I see one magpie.
Happily, these stylish members of the Corvidae family may be found in abundance around the Bordeaux area and their presence in twos, three or fours tends to keep signs of ill-omen at bay.
Two magpies in a winter tree,
more welcome, to my mind, than one:
their promised joy, a welcome start,
this drab cold morning swept with rain.
Such folklore, cryptic and arcane,
surrounds us. We learn rhymes by heart.
Two birds for jubilation; one,
for sorrow, we turn tail and flee.