No one likes January. And if they do, they’re probably a masochist who engages in Albert Fish-esque activities like sticking a thorny rose up their urethra or they’re a person with money who can stay inside and not have to be subjected to the full weight of the cold. At best, they’re someone who lives in a tropical climate or select parts of California. But, by and large, the type of person who takes pleasure in pain while masking it as the “joys” of frigid temperatures and hot chocolate by the fire is just a masochist. And, newsflash: the majority of the population is at work for most of their day and ain’t sittin’ by no fire “all cozy” (also probably because they don’t even have one—it’s another rich man’s luxury). In any case, for those wondering why the month that most logical people despise (not just for the feeling it gives, but the lengthiness of it only perpetuating that feeling) is so ire-inducing, the Italians have an explanation. Not just for January’s cunty, drawn-out ways, but also for how to tell when it’s going to be a long winter or an early spring. And it’s a tale that puts the Groundhog Day tradition to shame.

While most people, even non-Americans, are quite familiar with the Groundhog Day scene, fewer are aware of a story from Italian folklore that also pertains to a seasonal shift between winter and spring. That story is none other I Giorni della Merla (or The Blackbird’s Days). The three days in question are January 29th, 30th and 31st, whereas the Americans’ February 2nd would serve as the “one-stop shop” date for determining a shift or stasis in the season. While the groundhog seeing its shadow is supposed to mean another six weeks of winter and not seeing it is supposed to mean an early spring, in the blackbird’s case, if the aforementioned three days are especially chilly, it means an early spring. But if those days are instead on the milder side, temperature-wise, it foretells a late spring, likely filled with plenty of rain and inclement weather before that point.

Yet there’s more to the blackbird’s story than just this. Even more to how it became a “black” bird in the first place. Not to mention the personification of the month of January into a real vengeful cunt. In fact, January was (and is) such a cunt that it actually took three extra days from February, which itself used to have thirty-one. But when January saw this white (but-about-to-be-black) bird manage to escape its bitterly cold clutches by storing up enough supplies to stay in its nest for most of the chilling days of that month, it was more than January could bear. Apparently irritated that it couldn’t get its sadistic jollies from seeing the white bird suffer as a result of its arctic-level blasts of cold, January decided it would just “borrow” February’s “back end” for itself, in turn, rendering February into the oft belittled month that it is (complete with the running joke about how it’s rather telling that They [specifically, a Black man named Carter G. Woodson] would choose the shortest month of the year to be Black History Month).

That way, the bird, foolishly and “arrogantly” believing that it was successful in avoiding the harshness of winter, would be summarily “put in its place” by January. In fact, it seems that what really got to January, vexation-wise, was the “audacity” of the bird to emerge from its nest at the end of the twenty-eighth day, thinking it had “made it through the wilderness” (to use a Madonna phrase). That is to say, that it had survived the worst of things, and that its “reward” of “golden sunshine” (now, instead, to use a David Lynch phrase) was all but assured. It even had the gall to start singing a chipper little tune, much to January’s dismay.

Naturally, as the white bird was shocked and horrified to find out, January had other ideas in mind that involved keeping the season stagnant. Other means by which it could get its kicks from tormenting an innocent creature. And in this way, too, it can be argued yet again that this story falls under a fable categorization, considering that the “moral” is to remind people that cruelty often exists for no real reason other than the sheer, inexplicable sadism of someone (or something) else.

Of course, January didn’t seem to know who it was dealing with as much as the bird didn’t at first. Because, in response to January’s blatant display of schadenfreude, the white bird had a trick of its own up its sleeve (or wing, in this instance): seeking refuge in a chimney pot. To be sure, one will have to suspend disbelief over the fact that all that smoke blowing out of said orifice would probably suffocate/kill any non-magical creature. But because this is folklore, a fable really (minus the part where there’s any ostensible “lesson” to be learned—other than, as mentioned, that life is often merciless for no justifiable cause or motivation), one can simply “buy in.”

Thus, as January continued to beat down the environment with its gobs of cold gusts and snowy torrents, the white bird stood its ground, weathering the storm inside the safety and warmth of that chimney pot. But in exchange for that refuge, the chimney turned the once pure white plumage of the bird into a sooty, deep black. In effect, transforming it into a blackbird permanently. While some might feel that this is the most incomprehensible aspect of all from the tale, it’s true that soot is particularly stubborn about being removed from feathers (after all, there have been studies on how birds remain more darkly-colored as a result of sooty pollution).

So yeah, a physical “adjustment” was made in exchange for a bit of warmth during those extra three days that January siphoned from February out of spite. But the bird was able to endure. To survive. In this regard, too, I Giorni della Merla is a much more bad-ass narrative than Groundhog Day vis-à-vis seasonal predictions. And one that doesn’t involve the use of any live animals (that are still supposed to be hibernating), merely the retelling of some old folklore. Perhaps just another reason to stop torturing poor Punxsutawney Phil and go with that “weather reveal” cake idea that PETA has suggested.

*please note: there are various versions of I Giorni della Merla, but the one mentioned here is the most commonly found/told.