The Stork Bit Mother

A lot of books around here, and with a good allowance of free time, the hours frequently lead to unexpected places. From a nudge in the direction of birds I wound up Thursday in a book of Hans Christian Andersen fairy tales. Going from large birds to storks to myth, the dots eventually connected with the well-known author of fairy tales, and a story about storks.

“Yes,” their mother agreed…“I know the pond where all the little human babies lie until the storks come to take them to their parents. The pretty little babies lie in that pond, dreaming more sweetly than they ever dream afterwards. All parents want a little baby, and every child wants a little sister or brother. Now, we’ll go to that pond and bring a little baby sister or brother for each of the children who didn’t sing that wicked song or make fun of us. But those that did won’t get any.” —from Andersen’s 1838 tale “The Stork”

Can’t say that the notion of storks delivering babies was ever talked about in my family, and though it was a common enough idea among most in the early years of my own childhood, it’s doubtful that it ever got past the status of pure fairy tale. And though it was Hans Christian Andersen who wrote the story that did most to spread the tale of storks delivering babies, there is much about the large birds that fits very nicely into the legend, and biology as well as behavior fit very well with myth to support the old story.

The large birds build their nests in trees for the most part, but many years ago chimneys were a favorite alternative site for the stork’s nest, and in places like Germany, Poland and Scandinavia they were even encouraged, or lured to build a nest in a family’s chimney. This led to the thought that the stork can easily deliver a baby down the chimney chute, providing a convenient explanation for where babies came from. It also helped that they are migratory birds and therefore able to deliver babies from a faraway land. To explain mother’s bed rest following the baby’s arrival, children were told that before departing the house, the stork bit mother’s leg.

The stork’s great size, serial monogamy and faithfulness to one nesting site have also contributed to the bird’s place in myth and culture. People in earlier times believed the stork is faithful to one mate throughout its thirty-five year life span, but modern science has shown that to be only partially true. They do take more than one mate and they do not always return to the same nest. But they are good parents and care for their young even after the fledglings are able to fly. In biblical Hebrew, the word for stork is the equivalent of “kind mother,” and thus the bird became a symbol of parental care. Believing that the young storks took care of their elderly parents, and taking it as an example, the Romans even passed legislation called ‘Stork’s Law’ obligating children to care for their aged parents.

A Fairy Tale Ink

Poking aimlessly around my ink shelves, no real purpose in mind, I came upon an old bottle of De Atramentis Hans Christian Andersen ink. “Oh, great color… excellent ink!” I thought. At the time I wasn’t thinking about what I might put in this blog, but the Hans Christian Andersen gave me an idea. This is an ink I have long enjoyed using, one I have given as a birthday gift on a couple of occasions, and something I have recommended many times. So, it occurred to me that a review of this old ‘fairy tale ink’ might make an interesting topic for some.

Now, several hours later I find myself in the unexpected position of having to write with reservation about an ink I never doubted before today. Saying that, let me be quick to add that I blame the paper and the fountain pen chosen for this testing and review. I still have a good opinion of this De Atramentis ink, but unfortunately there is neither the time nor space to justify that opinion with different samples.

I started out using a Sailor Profit (Naginata) fountain pen with a medium 21k gold nib on a creamy high quality paper taken from an old unfilled journal. What paper? Thick, expensive, smooth and Japanese is about all I can tell you. But the point is, the Hans Christian Andersen ink worked very well on this paper, with this pen. Hopefully, the upper photo will give you a good look at both the ink’s unusual color and strong performance. At that point in my test I was optimistic that my remarks would all be positive.

Next, I printed out an ink review form on plain, inexpensive white copy paper. In less than a minute I found myself in trouble with both paper and fountain pen, not to mention ink. The first page I wrote out was an ugly mess. The De Atramentis ink clearly didn’t like that paper, and was doing everything possible to tell me so. In a nutshell, every aspect we like to examine was off. There was a lot of feathering and bleed through, and very poor shading and saturation. Honestly, nothing about it was beyond what anyone would call a poor performance.

I tossed that cheap copy paper and put the Sailor pen to bed. Next, I tried it with a Montblanc Meisterstuck 146 that has a fine 14k gold nib. The new paper was also white copy paper, but a much more expensive grade and weight. The results of that test are shown in the second photograph, however please discount the color in this scan. It is nothing at all like the true shade of blue-green you can see in the top photo. I think the scanning killed the beautiful and special quality of the Hans Christian Andersen color. (The top photo is not scanned.)

Despite the less than praiseworthy comments I have made about the ink on the review form, and despite the problems I had with the ink today, I continue to like this ink and still consider it a worthy member of the De Atramentis family of writer-named inks. If you choose a fountain pen and paper that are agreeable to the ink, I can promise you will enjoy using it, and will especially enjoy the distinctive shade of blue green.