Happy April Fools’ Day.
Now. Quick question. Do you actually know where this day came from?
Because here’s the punchline: nobody does. Not really. Historians have been arguing about it for over a century. Folklorists have filled entire books trying to pin it down. And the best answer anyone can give you is basically a shrug followed by “probably France? Maybe Rome? Could be a rooster.”
Which, honestly, feels exactly right for a holiday built around confusion.
Let’s go through the theories. Because they’re all great.
Theory #1: France changed its calendar and nobody got the memo.
This is the big one. The one most historians lean toward, even if they’ll quietly admit it’s not airtight.
Here’s the setup. In 1564, King Charles IX of France signed the Edict of Roussillon, officially moving the start of the new year from April 1 to January 1. France had been celebrating New Year’s Day around the spring equinox — right around the end of March and into April — for centuries. Under the old Julian calendar, established by Julius Caesar, that’s just how things worked. Spring meant new year. Parties, feasts, celebrations.
But now? January 1. Done. Move on. Happy new year, everyone.
Except news traveled by horse in 1564. And not everyone got the memo. Or refused to accept it. So some people kept right on celebrating in the spring — and those people became the butt of everyone else’s jokes. They were mocked. Pranked. Had fake gifts left at their doors. Called “April Fools.”
“Those who were slow to get the news or failed to recognize that the start of the new year had moved to January 1 and continued to celebrate it during the last week of March through April 1 became the butt of jokes and hoaxes.”
— History.com, tracing the French calendar theory
There’s just one problem with this theory. A Flemish poet named Eduard de Dene wrote a comic poem in 1561 — three years before the Edict of Roussillon — about a nobleman who sent his servant on ridiculous, pointless errands on April 1. The servant’s whole complaint? That he was being made a fool. Sound familiar? That’s April Fools’ Day in black and white, predating the calendar change that’s supposed to explain it.
So the calendar theory might be wrong. Or it might be one piece of a much bigger, messier puzzle.
Theory #2: Ancient Rome was already doing this.
Historians have also traced April Fools’ back to Hilaria — a Roman spring festival celebrated at the end of March in honour of the goddess Cybele. Described as a “masked carnival marked by licentious behaviour,” Hilaria was essentially a day when Romans dressed in disguises, imitated other people, and mocked anyone who walked by — including magistrates. Nobody was safe. The whole point was joyful chaos.
The idea that April 1 carries an echo of ancient Roman mischief? That’s not a stretch. Spring has always been the season when human beings feel like acting up. It’s warmer, it’s bright, and after months of winter, people collectively lose their minds a little bit.
Even Mother Nature gets in on it. Some historians point out that the unpredictability of early spring weather — snow one day, sunshine the next — could itself be the original joke. Nature is fooling you. You’re the April fish.
Theory #3: Geoffrey Chaucer wrote about it. Probably. Maybe.
In The Canterbury Tales, published around 1392, Chaucer’s “Nun’s Priest’s Tale” tells the story of Chanticleer — a rooster who dreams he’ll be attacked by a fox, gets talked out of trusting his dream by a hen, and then gets grabbed by the neck by that exact fox while mid-song. The rooster eventually outwits the fox. Nobody comes out looking great.
The poem places these events “thirty-two days after March began.” Thirty-two days from March 1 is April 1. April Fools’ Day in verse, 600 years ago. Case closed!
Except no. Scholars think a medieval scribe may have introduced a typo. Other lines in the poem suggest the date is actually early May. So either Chaucer invented April Fools’ Day or he didn’t, and we’ll never know for certain. Which is very on-brand for this holiday.
France gave us the paper fish. And it’s the best thing.
Whatever its origins, France took the holiday and ran with it. The French tradition is called Poisson d’Avril — “April Fish.” One of the first known references appears in a 1508 poem by Eloy d’Amerval. The prank? Sneak up behind someone and stick a paper fish on their back without them noticing. Then yell “Poisson d’Avril!” The idea is that a young fish in spring is naive and easily caught. You, the person with a fish on your back, are that naive young fish.
France, Belgium, Italy, and French-speaking Switzerland still do this today. Right now. This morning. Someone is getting a paper fish stuck to their back in Lyon and has absolutely no idea.
Scotland made it a two-day event. Because of course they did.
Leave it to Scotland to decide one day of foolishness wasn’t enough. The Scottish tradition started with Huntigowk Day — “hunting the gowk,” where a gowk is a cuckoo bird, which is a symbol of a fool. The prank was elegant: you’d give someone a sealed letter to deliver, supposedly asking for urgent help. When the recipient opened it, they’d find a message inside that said simply: “Send the fool further.” So they’d send the messenger on to the next person. Who’d open the letter. Who’d send them on again. This could go on all day.
Day two was called Tailie Day. The entire point was pinning things to people’s backsides without them noticing. Fake tails. “Kick me” signs. Scotland invented the “kick me” sign. This is historical fact and it’s wonderful.
So. Where did it really come from?
Here’s the honest answer. We don’t know. As folklorist Alan Dundes wrote back in 1988: “More than one hundred years of scholarship has unfortunately added very little to our knowledge and understanding of this curious custom.” And that was almost 40 years ago. We’re no closer.
What we do know is that spring has always made human beings want to be ridiculous. The Romans did it. Medieval Europe did it. The French, the Scots, the Dutch — who apparently still fling herring at their neighbours and yell “haringgek” (“herring fool”) — all of them found ways to mark the season with sanctioned nonsense.
The first clear mention of the holiday in English comes from antiquarian John Aubrey in 1686, who called it simply “Fooles Holy Day” and noted that it was observed everywhere in Germany too. And even by 1760, nobody could explain it. Poor Robin’s Almanac that year printed these lines:
“The First of April some do say / Is set apart for all Fool’s Day / But why the people call it so / Nor I nor they themselves do know.”
— Poor Robin’s Almanac, 1760
In 1760, nobody knew. In 2026, nobody knows. The holiday has outlasted every attempt to explain it.
Which makes April Fools’ Day the longest-running joke in human history.
And the best part? The joke is on anyone who tries too hard to figure it out.
Happy April 1st. Watch your back. Literally.