Lions and Lambs

by Hilary Jocelyn

‘March comes in like a lion and out like a lamb.’ Or so the traditional and frequently quoted saying goes. And as the third month of the year crawls towards its Grande Finale, maybe it is time to delve a little deeper into the theme of lambs and lions, and its association with the month of March.

Lions certainly have the reputation of being fierce hunters that pounce on anything in their path, but if truth be told, the only lions I have ever seen have been subdued by high fencing, and depressed by captivity. There was a zoo we used to visit as a special treat when I was a child, and I remember watching the baby lion cubs play and frolic like kittens.  I so desperately wanted to take one home with me to cuddle, because they were so sweet looking, but my parents put their firm foot down on that one. 

And as for lambs… well, they were just plentiful in Bonnie Scotland in early March and every year they would burst out of the sheep dotted hillsides. and bleat their fragile way to their wool valuable mothers. And yes, you guessed it, while wandering in the Scottish hills, my eight-year-old self really, really wanted to bring one home so I could bottle feed it by the fire, but my parents put an end to that idea as well, even if it was slightly more viable than a pet lion cub. In the end they did provide me with a very lovable kitten, who probably gave me more joy than lions or lambs ever could, until he tragically got squished at an early age by a neighbour’s reversing car. 

Moving on a decade or two, I remember camping as a young adventure-filled adult on a Scottish island in March, and oh my golly gosh it was cold, and wet, and stormy! One chilly, lion-like day, my intrepid tentmate and I went out for a blustery stroll. On our return, we discovered that a mother sheep had decided to explore her birthing options and found her way into our tent, where, sheltered from the vicious wind and relentless rain, she promptly delivered her precious bundle of woolly joy. Our sleeping bags were covered in bits of disregarded placenta, and lots of blood and slime, but mother and baby were happily baah-ing, and making themselves quite at home.  In the end, the new mama ewe wandered nonchalantly out of our sleeping quarters, with her wee lamb wobbling after her. We dragged our revolting bedding out into the afternoon air, where the gulls swept down and did a pretty good job gobbling up Mother Nature’s highly unwelcomed gift.

However, as we all know, Lambs and Lions are usually used as a metaphor to describe the month’s highly unpredictable weather..

A Lion can certainly be fierce and determined. Brutal and indomitable. Like the one that accompanied me earlier this month when I was hiking in the Adirondack Mountains. Half frozen, roaring streams were covered with non-weight-bearing treacherous glaciers of boulders. Wind blowing so mightily, that our tracks were covered in seconds, making it hard to find the path. Trail signs, normally posted high on the trees, sat buried in multiple feet of deep snow. Sub-zero temperatures that brought numbness to my hands and toes and turned nose drips and eye waterings into tentacles of icicles. The March Lion was roaring, ruthless and unrelentless.

And then we have Lamb. Gentle and hope-inspiring. Promising and Joyful. Like the soft winds that blow the red-winged blackbirds back to their Northern homes, and entice the geese to flock-gather upriver. Warmer cusps of air encourage the maple sap to run in the veins of the drowsy trees. Pre-melting snow, that is so soft that we sink up to our knees when we try to walk through it, until slowly… oh so slowly…, the  Spring sunshine turns it into dissolving mush. Mud that decorates everything, including the living room.  Yes, the March Lamb finally takes its turn, appearing with a quavering bleat and a spirited frolic, until the roaring Lion makes its presence known once more, reminding us that it is not quite yet ready to retire and to retreat until the next time around. Two steps forward. One back. Sometimes three steps backwards, and it seems as if we have reversed into January again.

However, it’s not only the weather that brings us these two personas. I would say that  Lambs and Lions co-exist in the lives of everyone, all around the world. Wars rage. Tornadoes destroy. Fires burn. Ceasefires fail. Climate changes. Diseases spread. Hate infects. Bombs fall, and people die in the streets. Governments ignore. Injustice thrives. While at the same time, Communities gather. Elections get won. Flowers bloom.  People resist. Power shifts, and people dance in the street.  New homes are built. The unhoused find housing. Friendships form. Romances thrive. Pronouns shift. Cures are found. Our world has lots of fodder for savage and hangry Lions, and plenty of green grass grazing for multiple bouncing Lambs.

Closer to home, we also all have our own fair share of these opposing and contrasting two creatures. For me, a new grandchild is about to be born, and you can’t get much more lamb-like than that. Last week, I strolled along the river with my lovely middle daughter, and we picnicked happily in the chilly rain, sheltering under a play structure in a nearby park as we baahed to each other happily. Sharing meals with neighbours. An early morning cup of tea. Living a life of privilege. Gathering with my community to watch a local play. Yes indeed, I have lots of baby sheep-like frolicking, and many contentedly bleating moments.

Of course, we all have our fair share of Lions in our own lives. Some are fiercer than others, and every Lion is certainly unique, but there are many we can likely all relate to. Sorrows. Grief. Fears about the future. Ghosts from the past. Money worries. Crumbling relationships. Health concerns. Discrimination. Loneliness. Fear. Estrangement. Housing loss. Violence. Hurt and Anger. And many other roaring angst angst-filled experiences.

And so, Lambs and Lions, just like the Month of March, stand together reluctantly intertwined. They hold hands, as they cohabit the uneasy space between the seasons of change, and offer us threats of danger, and in the same breath, wonderful promises of hope.

April showers will bring us May flowers!   

 P.S. The writer would like to apologize to any lion lovers who are reading this blog. No offence was intended, and sadly, in some areas of the world, these majestic animals are becoming a vulnerable and endangered species.