Hunting for Holiday Romance (With a Shotgun)

Last year, my significant other and I set out on a very specific kind of holiday hunt—not for deer, not for the perfect tree, but for mistletoe.

We were on my parents’ farm, bundled up in flannel and fleece, scanning the treetops like treasure hunters. You see, mistletoe only reveals itself once the leaves have fallen, clinging to the very tippy tops of the trees like little green secrets. And how do you get it down from such great heights?

Well… we used a shotgun.

Yes, you read that right. My S.O. took aim, and with each blast, sprigs of mistletoe rained down like confetti. I’d dart around beneath the trees, gathering the fallen greenery like a holiday squirrel. Once we had a good stash, I tied the sprigs with red ribbon and handed them out to friends and family—each one a little bundle of tradition, mischief, and magic.

But where did this whole kissing-under-the-mistletoe thing even come from?

A Parasite with a Past

First, let’s get one thing straight: mistletoe is a parasite. It latches onto tree branches and steals water and nutrients from its host. Not exactly romantic, right?

But the ancient Druids thought otherwise. They believed mistletoe was magical—after all, it stayed green all winter long when everything else had withered. Even more mystical, it grew suspended between earth and sky, with no roots in the ground. That liminal quality made it sacred, a symbol of vitality and fertility.

Fast forward to the Victorians, who never met a tradition they couldn’t turn into a social game. They took the Druidic reverence and added a dash of flirtation: if you found yourself under the mistletoe, you were fair game for a kiss. Refusing was considered bad luck (and possibly a social faux pas).

Mistletoe Today: Consent, Cheer, and HR Boundaries

These days, mistletoe is more about fun than fate. It’s a festive excuse to sneak a smooch from your sweetheart—or at least hang something cute in the doorway.

That said, let’s be clear: no one is obligated to pucker up. The modern mistletoe rule is simple—kisses are optional, consent is essential, and maybe don’t hang it in the office unless you want to spend your holiday explaining things to HR.

Also, a quick PSA: mistletoe is poisonous to people and pets. So, while it’s great for romance, it’s terrible for snacking. Keep it out of reach of curious kids and fur-babies.

A Tradition Worth Sharing

There’s something deeply satisfying about turning a wild farm hunt into a handmade holiday ritual. Each ribbon-tied sprig I gave away carried a little story: of laughter echoing through bare trees, of green leaves against a gray sky, of kisses caught and memories made.

This year, if you see mistletoe hanging in someone’s home, know that it might’ve come from a shotgun blast and a whole lot of love.

And if you’re lucky, maybe you’ll get a kiss too.