Waxwings

Waxwings are brightly coloured birds whose unexpected appearance at Kathleen Walsh’s window briefly draws Stella’s attention away from tea. They cross the green space below in search of cotoneaster berries; Kathleen welcomes them as vivid visitors, though she also recalls the medieval Dutch belief that they brought plague.

Appearance and Arrival

As Kathleen lifted the tea tray and headed into the other room, a movement outside the window caught her eye, almost a flash. She set the tray down, went to the window, and pointed out a flock of Waxwings. Stella stood almost on tiptoe, her hands joined behind her back, watching the colourful birds traverse the green space below. She likened their crests to Mohican haircuts and noticed the yellow on them.

Kathleen said the birds had arrived the previous day, but that in some years they did not come at all. Their appearance is therefore an intermittent one: a bright visitation rather than a dependable feature of the garden. The flock’s movement, first glimpsed as a flash and then watched as it crossed the space, gives the brief encounter its sense of sudden discovery.

Food and Folklore

Kathleen explains that the Waxwings are after berries and that the cotoneaster is attracting them. Her affection for birds is plain, but she also recalls that the Dutch call Waxwings Pestvogel. In medieval times, people believed the birds brought plague with them, setting an ominous historical association against the colour and liveliness of the flock Stella has just admired.

The birds’ arrival also prompts a practical exchange about feeding them. Stella observes that the neighbours might not be pleased if bird feeders were put out; Kathleen agrees. The scene thus places delight in the visitors alongside a local limit on how they might be encouraged to stay.

Narrative Significance

The Waxwings enter the conversation through Kathleen’s attention to the window: the nearly glimpsed movement interrupts the tea-making and turns both women toward the birds. Stella’s almost tiptoe stance and joined hands register her absorbed looking without explanation, while her playful description of their crests keeps the encounter light. Kathleen’s account adds a darker layer, making the birds at once beautiful visitors, berry-seekers, and figures burdened by inherited superstition.