Are the 12 Days of Christmas All Birds? What Most People Get Wrong

You’re sitting at a holiday party, maybe three eggnogs deep, and someone starts belt-singing about partridges and pear trees. By the time they hit the "six geese-a-laying," you start to notice a pattern. Feathers. Lots of feathers. It makes you wonder: are the 12 days of Christmas all birds, or is that just a weird fever dream cooked up by a 17th-century songwriter with an avian obsession?

The short answer? Almost. But not quite.

If you look at the standard version of the lyrics we sing today, exactly half of the gifts are definitely birds. We’re talking about 23 individual birds in total if you count every repetition. However, if you dig into the linguistic history and the old French roots of the carol, the "bird count" might actually be much higher than you think. Some historians and folklorists, like those who study the Roud Folk Song Index, suggest that even the gifts we think of as jewelry or people might have originally been—you guessed it—birds.

The Definitive Feathered Count

Let’s look at the obvious ones first. You’ve got your partridge. You’ve got two turtle doves. There are three French hens. Then come the four "calling birds" (which we will get into later, because that’s a whole linguistic mess). Skipping the rings for a second, you jump straight back into the coop with six geese-a-laying and seven swans-a-swimming.

That is a lot of poultry.

Honestly, it’s a logistical nightmare. Imagine the smell. Imagine the noise. If you were the "True Love" receiving these gifts, you wouldn't need a jewelry box; you’d need a massive industrial-sized bird sanctuary and a very patient waste management team. The sheer volume of livestock in this song suggests it wasn't a romantic gesture so much as it was a display of extreme wealth or perhaps a very elaborate prank.

The Five Golden Rings: The Biggest Misconception

This is where the debate really heats up. Most people see "five golden rings" and think of 24-karat gold bands from a jeweler. It’s the only break in a long string of animals. It feels like the chorus for a reason. But if you're asking are the 12 days of Christmas all birds, many ornithologists and historians would point you toward the Ring-necked Pheasant.

Wait, what?

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There’s a very strong theory that the "rings" actually refer to the colorful markings around a pheasant's neck. In the context of a song that is almost entirely about game birds and farm animals used for medieval feasts, a random pivot to expensive jewelry doesn't make much sense. If the first seven days are all birds, it’s highly probable the fifth day was a bird, too. Specifically, the Phasianus colchicus.

Think about the flow of the song.

1. Partridge (Game bird)
2. Doves (Game bird)
3. Hens (Poultry)
4. "Colly" birds (Blackbirds)
5. Golden Rings (Ring-necked Pheasants)
6. Geese (Poultry)
7. Swans (Waterfowl)

When you look at it that way, the sequence is perfect. It’s a list of delicacies. It’s a menu for a massive, multi-day feast. The idea of "rings" being jewelry only really took off in the mid-20th century because of how the music was composed—the long, dramatic pause on that line made people think of something precious and shiny.

The Mystery of the Calling Birds

Originally, they weren't "calling" birds at all.

If you check the earliest printed versions of the lyrics, like those found in the 1780 book Mirth Without Mischief, the line is actually "four colly birds."

"Colly" is an old English term for "coal-black." So, the song was actually referring to common blackbirds (Turdus merula). Over time, as the word "colly" fell out of common usage, people misheard it. They changed it to "calling" because it made more sense to a modern ear. It’s a classic example of a "mondegreen"—a misheard song lyric that becomes the new standard.

So, yes, the fourth day is 100% birds. They’re just soot-colored ones.

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Why So Many Birds? The Feast Factor

To understand why someone would write a song about gifting dozens of birds, you have to look at the era. This wasn't just about "pets." In the 18th century, birds were the centerpiece of high-society dining.

Swans, for instance, were a royal delicacy. In England, the Crown technically owns all unmarked mute swans in open waters. Gifting seven swans-a-swimming wasn't just a romantic gesture; it was a massive flex of political power and wealth. You were essentially saying, "I have the resources to provide you with the most elite protein available on the market."

Even the "six geese-a-laying" served a dual purpose. You get the eggs, sure, but you also get a massive roast dinner at the end of the twelve days. The song is basically a rolling delivery service for a giant medieval buffet.

What About the People?

This is where the "all birds" theory usually dies for most folks. Days eight through twelve are clearly people:

• Eight maids-a-milking
• Nine ladies dancing
• Ten lords-a-leaping
• Eleven pipers piping
• Twelve drummers drumming

There is no credible evidence to suggest these were secretly birds. Some people try to stretch the metaphor, claiming "maids-a-milking" might refer to cattle egrets or some other obscure species, but that’s a reach. Even for a song as weird as this one, the final five days represent a shift from the food for the party to the entertainment for the party.

You have the meat (the birds), the dairy (the maids), and the music/dancing (the lords, ladies, and musicians). It’s a complete festival in a box.

The Religious Symbolism Argument

You might have heard the "secret code" theory. The idea goes that the song was used by persecuted Catholics in England to teach their children the tenets of their faith without the authorities knowing. In this version, the "partridge in a pear tree" is Jesus Christ, and the "two turtle doves" are the Old and New Testaments.

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It’s a cool story. Honestly, it is. But it’s almost certainly fake.

Fr. Hal Stockert, who popularized this idea in the 1980s, claimed he found evidence for it in old primary sources, but those sources have never been produced. Most historians agree that the song is simply a "memory game" or a "forfeit" song. You sing a verse, then the next person adds one. If you mess up, you have to pay a penalty—usually a kiss or a piece of candy. It was never a clandestine theological manual. It was a tavern game.

The Ecological Reality

If you actually tried to fulfill the "12 Days of Christmas" today, you'd be in for some serious legal trouble.

• Turtle Doves: These are now a vulnerable species. In many places, their populations have plummeted due to habitat loss and hunting. You can't just go out and snag two for your girlfriend anymore.
• Swans: As mentioned, if you're in the UK, messing with swans can get you a direct meeting with the authorities.
• The Cost: Every year, the PNC Christmas Price Index calculates the actual cost of these gifts. In recent years, the total cost for all 364 items (the total count when you repeat the verses) has hovered around $45,000 to $50,000. The "seven swans-a-swimming" are consistently the most expensive item on the list, often costing over $13,000 alone.

Summary of the Bird Count

To wrap your head around the math, here is how the birds actually stack up in the modern version:

• Day 1: 1 Partridge
• Day 2: 2 Turtle Doves
• Day 3: 3 French Hens
• Day 4: 4 Calling (Colly) Birds
• Day 5: 5 Golden Rings (Potentially Pheasants, but officially jewelry)
• Day 6: 6 Geese-a-laying
• Day 7: 7 Swans-a-swimming

Total confirmed birds: 23.
Total potential birds (if Day 5 is pheasants): 28.

While the song isn't entirely birds, the first week of Christmas is definitely for the birds. The transition from feathered friends to dancing lords marks the transition from the pantry to the ballroom.

What to do with this info

If you're looking to use this knowledge this holiday season, here are a few ways to actually apply it:

• Win the Trivia Night: Next time the song comes on, drop the "Colly Bird" fact. People love (or hate) a "well, actually" moment regarding 18th-century linguistics.
• Sustainable Gifting: If you want to honor the "bird" tradition without the mess, donate to a bird conservation group like the National Audubon Society in someone's name. It’s much better than actual geese.
• The Pheasant Theory: If you’re buying a gift for the "fifth day," look for pheasant-themed items or jewelry that incorporates feathers. It’s a deep-cut nod to the song’s likely origins.
• Check the Lyrics: If you find an old hymnal or a vintage Christmas card, look at the illustrations. You'll often see how different generations interpreted these gifts—sometimes the "five rings" are shown as birds, and sometimes they aren't.

The 12 Days of Christmas is less of a shopping list and more of a historical time capsule. It reflects a world where wealth was measured in livestock and where the winter holidays were a frantic, 12-day-long attempt to eat as much as possible before the lean months of late winter set in. Whether they are all birds or not, the song remains the ultimate anthem of holiday excess.