Hazel’s catkins are more than botanical structures. They are seasonal signals, cultural markers, and symbols of renewal. They tie the tree to lambing, to fertility, to the first stirrings of spring. They are Hazel’s earliest voice in the year, speaking in gold.

Hazel announces spring long before the calendar does. In the cold weeks of late winter, when the ground is still hard and the hedgerows look asleep, Hazel begins to shimmer with pale gold. These are the catkins, Hazel’s lambs’ tails, dangling in soft clusters that sway with the slightest wind. They are the tree’s first declaration of the year, a quiet but unmistakable sign that the season is turning.

The First Gold of the Year

Hazel’s catkins appear before the leaves, sometimes as early as January, more often in February. They lengthen and loosen as the days grow lighter, transforming from tight green tassels into long, golden chains. In a landscape still washed in greys and browns, Hazel’s catkins are a shock of color, an early promise, a whisper of warmth.

In many regions, they were considered the first gold of the year, a natural omen of renewal. Children shook them to “wake the spring,” and adults watched them as weather signs: early catkins meant an early lambing season, late catkins meant lingering cold.

Fertility, Virility & the Lambing Season

The name lambs’ tails is not accidental. Hazel’s catkins ripen at the same time ewes begin to lamb, and the visual rhyme; soft, dangling, golden, linked the two in rural imagination. Hazel became a quiet emblem of fertility, virility, and the renewal of flocks.

The catkins release clouds of pollen when disturbed, a visible burst that reinforced their association with male generative force. In some traditions, shaking Hazel catkins over livestock was believed to encourage health and fecundity. The tree’s early pollen was seen as a blessing, a kind of vegetal benediction.

Wind‑Fertilized Magic

Hazel is wind‑pollinated, and its catkins are designed for movement. A single gust sends pollen drifting through the hedgerow, seeking the tiny, crimson female flowers that appear on the same branches, small, star‑shaped and easily missed unless you know where to look. This pairing: large, showy male catkins and tiny, hidden female flowers, gave Hazel a symbolic duality. The catkins were public, exuberant, generous; the flowers were secret, subtle, inward. Together they formed a quiet ritual of balance, a natural marriage enacted in the cold weeks before spring.

Catkins in Folklore & Custom

In some regions, Hazel catkins were brought indoors as a charm for good fortune or placed in barns to protect newborn animals. Children used them as playthings, shaking them to release “gold dust.” In parts of Ireland and Scotland, Hazel catkins were considered a sign that the imbolc season had begun, the hinge between winter and spring. Hazel’s early bloom also made it a symbol of hope during scarcity. When food stores were low and winter felt endless, the appearance of catkins meant the world was waking again.

Catkins are the prologue to everything Hazel will do later: craft, fruiting, feeding, sheltering. They are the tree’s first gesture, its first offering. Hazel’s catkin season forms the opening chapter of its year:

Late winter: catkins lengthen

Early spring: pollen release

Mid‑spring: leaves unfurl

Summer: nuts form

Late summer: ripening begins

Autumn: harvest