A GULP OF MAGPIES

 

 

Knowing that magpies

can be black and  white

or white and black

doesn't help in telling which this is.

 

The oystercatcher

by way of contrast

isn’t black and white, or white and black:

it’s orange!

The oystercatcher isn't a type of magpie, but the visual similarities have led to comparisons and some languages build that in. The Welsh term 'Pioden fôr', for example, translates to 'magpie of the sea'.

 

Magpies’ love of shiny things

used to be a popular excuse

for the hastily-flung-away ring.

Now we know they’re neophobic.

A systematic study was carried out by Exeter University scientists in 2014. It refuted the folklore myth of the ‘thieving magpie’ by showing that they are actually nervous of objects such as jewellery. Lead author Dr Toni Shephard said: ‘We did not find evidence of an unconditional attraction to shiny objects in magpies. Instead, all objects prompted responses indicating neophobia – fear of new things.’ The image is from Jane Daniell’s set of four etchings ‘The Thieving Magpie’, 2015, based on the Rossini’s 1817 opera semiseria of the same name. 

      

There are twice as many magpies now

as in 1970, but less than half the sparrows.

Yet, still, there are more sparrows.

Yet, still, I see more magpies.

 

Magpies: 0.6m in 1970, 1.2m now. House sparrows: 25m in 1970, 10m now. The wren, at 22m, is currently our commonest bird.

 

Spot what difference?

Males are 10% bigger

than females

and are slightly-more-than-correspondingly longer in the aerodynamic tail.

Cutting to the Chase

One for sorrow, Two for joy

Five for silver, Six for gold

Ten for the Devil himself.

 

There are various versions of the nursery rhyme referring to superstitions about the portent of the number of magpies seen together in a flock. The text is extracted from this one:

‘One for sorrow, Two for joy, Three for a girl and Four for a boy, Five for silver, Six for gold, Seven for a secret never to be told, Eight for Heaven, Nine for Hell, Ten for the Devil himself’

Having said all which, I almost always see just a solitary magpie. Confirming, I suppose, the current sorry state of the world.

 

Hush for Lisa…

Counting Crows

has seven members.

So what’s the secret never to be told?

 

The seven-strong Californian band Counting Crows has sold over 20 million albums since its formation in 1991. I don’t claim to be a fan, but how many corvid-counting rockers are there? As for ‘Seven for a secret never to be told’… Lead singer Adam Duritz has dated both Jennifer Aniston and Courteney Cox – so perhaps his relationship with Lisa Kudrow is the secret, meaning he has completed the full set of female Friends. The band’s most appealing non-secret is that they were termed ‘Accounting Crows’ after securing a particularly good recording contract in their early-nineties peak.

 

The intelligent magpie

is one of the few non-mammalian species

able to recognize itself in a mirror test –

and here’s my proof.

 

They start in December

and they start with a mud cup to anchor the sticks to come

into the fork of a tree.

I did say they’re clever.

  

 

I reckon you’d need

all these eggs

to make a decent magpie omelette.

It would taste a little wild.

 

Magpie eggs are edible, but contain only a third of the volume of a standard hen’s egg.

 

 

And this is Murgatroyd

mascot of Blue Peter’s rival -

a pie made of mag-

azine snippets of a televisual sort.

 

The British children's television programme ‘Magpie’ ran on ITV from 1968-80 as a rival to the BBC's famous 'Blue Peter'. I have no recollection of seeing it, or Murgatroyd – a rather free-form magpie, I have to say. I do remember ‘Blue Peter’, which started – like me - in 1958, and is still running.

 

Here’s a magpie

further off than I might have liked.

Is Catkin really

so very scary?

 

Look carefully! The magpie is on the second-highest pair of wires. The photo shows The Land on which my wife Steph keeps her pony. Catkin is the yard cat.

 

Magpies may be crows of a sort

but they don’t make a murder:

a tribe more likely, a mischief, a parliament,

a tidings or maybe - which I’m opting for - a gulp.