Among the runes of the Elder Futhark—the oldest runic alphabet used by Germanic peoples—we find a symbol of quiet but potent power: ᛒ, Berkano. Pronounced like the English letter “B”, Berkano stands for birch tree, and more deeply, for the essence of birth, growth, and renewal. Where other runes may roar with the sound of the battlefield or echo through the halls of law, Berkano speaks softly—like the whisper of new leaves in spring, or the breath of a newborn child. But do not mistake its gentleness for weakness. Like the birch tree, Berkano is resilient, ever-regenerating, and central to the cycles of life.
In this article, we’ll explore Berkano from a historical and linguistic perspective, delve into its mythological associations, and consider what it may have meant to those who carved it into wood, stone, and bone more than a thousand years ago.
The Birch Tree and the Northern Landscape
To understand Berkano, we must begin with the birch tree itself. In the ancient forests of Northern Europe, the birch was often the first tree to colonize newly cleared land. It is a pioneer tree—resilient, fast-growing, and able to survive where others cannot. In this way, it came to symbolize beginnings and regeneration. The birch was also associated with feminine energy and motherhood, not only because of its nurturing properties but because of its role in medicine and fertility rituals.
For the early Germanic peoples, the natural world was not something separate from human experience—it was woven into the rhythm of daily life, deeply mythologized, and constantly observed. To see the birch sprouting anew after a harsh winter or fire would not simply be a sign of ecological recovery—it would be interpreted as a sign of divine favor or the turning of the wyrd (the Old Norse term for fate or unfolding destiny). Berkano embodies this natural rebirth.
Form and Sound: A Linguistic Glimpse
Berkano represents the b sound, and linguistically, it stems from a Proto-Germanic root that modern scholars reconstruct as berkanan, related to the birch tree. We find cognates across Indo-European languages—Old English beorc, Old High German birihha, and even the Latin betula. Its shape is roughly triangular, resembling a vertical line with two curved branches, like the trunk and split branches of the birch. In later scripts like the Younger Futhark, the form simplifies, but the sound remains.
But language is never just sound. The ancients understood this intuitively. To say berkano aloud—to carve it—is to invoke not only a letter but a concept. And in a world where writing was magical, secretive, and sacred, that invocation carried weight.
Berkano in Myth and Ritual
There are no runic texts from the Elder Futhark period that tell us precisely how Berkano was used or understood. But we can glean much from later sources, archaeological finds, and comparative mythology.
In Norse mythology, female figures like Frigg and Freyja preside over love, fertility, childbirth, and household well-being. Berkano resonates with these goddesses. Frigg, the wife of Odin, is the archetypal mother, guardian of hearth and home, and seer of fate. Freyja, more sensual and powerful in her own right, rules over both love and war. Berkano walks the path between them: protective, nurturing, yet not passive.
In Germanic pagan rituals, women often led rites related to fertility and healing. The carving of Berkano onto amulets or birch bark might have been part of protective magic for childbirth or agricultural planting. Its power was subtle, but foundational.
Berkano in the Rune Poems
Though Berkano’s origins lie in the Elder Futhark (ca. 150–800 CE), we find its name preserved in later medieval rune poems, particularly the Old English Rune Poem:
“Beorc byþ bleda leas,
bereþ efne swa ðeah
tanas butan tudder,
bið on telgum wlitig,
heah on helme hrysted fægere,
geloden leafum,
lyfte getenge.”
Translation (approximate):
“Birch has no fruit, yet bears
branches without seed;
beautiful are its boughs,
high in the crown, adorned fairly,
laden with leaves,
touching the sky.”
This verse underscores Berkano’s symbolic duality. Though it produces no fruit, it is still considered beautiful and life-giving—just as women were revered not only for physical fertility but for nurturing wisdom, healing, and continuity.
Birth as a Spiritual Principle
In modern times, we tend to think of birth biologically. But for the rune-masters, birth was spiritual too. Berkano doesn’t merely represent physical motherhood or childbirth—it represents becoming. It speaks of transformation, whether that’s a child entering the world, an idea taking shape, or the self emerging renewed after trauma or darkness.
In this way, Berkano is the rune of liminality—the threshold between what was and what will be. Just as seeds gestate in the dark soil before breaking into light, or babies grow in the hidden womb, Berkano represents those unseen stages of transformation that precede the visible.
This is not a rune of thunderclaps and war cries. It is the rune of slow miracles.
Modern Use and Reflection
For those who use runes today in meditation, magic, or divination, Berkano often signals a time of beginning. This might be literal—pregnancy, new projects, moving homes—or more abstract, such as emotional healing, spiritual growth, or new ways of thinking. In a spread, it might encourage patience, nurturing, and trusting the natural cycle of growth.
Modern practitioners sometimes draw Berkano during times of grief, not because it represents loss, but because it represents what comes after. Renewal, not replacement. Hope, not denial.
Final Thoughts: The Gentle Power of Berkano
Of all the runes, Berkano is perhaps the most misunderstood—not because it is hidden, but because it is quiet. In a society that praises action and conquest, the quiet work of nurturing life, protecting the hearth, and birthing new visions may be seen as lesser. But to the ancients, Berkano’s gifts were sacred, central, and enduring.
It reminds us that not all strength is loud. Some strength is green, growing, and resilient. Like the birch tree, like the hidden womb, like the softest hands that guide us into life.
ᛒ Berkano is the promise that every winter will end, that every darkness gives way to dawn.