![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Magpie trust
Feb. 1st, 2021 11:25 pmCW: Long, even by my standards. But just talking about my growing relationship with the local magpies. An anecdote became a history, I'm afraid, but a happy one. Given the detail I thought I'd immortalise this as an actual blog post
--
Magpie relations went up a notch this evening. I was feeding one of the older (but not senior) maggies who was shepherding and feeding two younger ones. The babies are having a growth spurt and are entirely out of proportion. They still have stubby beaks and a bit of fluff, but their legs are entirely too long for the rest of them. I've not seen this particular growth stage up close before.
The whole clan is frequently summoned by the leaders to (at a guess) chase crows or ravens out of their territory. As I was feeding this trio I heard the summons of the family song; the guardian responded, but stayed with the babies, suddenly eating much faster. The call rang out again and the other magpies around the place flew past towards a particular tree. Maybe this is their nesting tree, or in the middle or outer edge of their territory, but it's always a rallying point in the end. I say "in the end" because the light pole in our cul-de-sac is also a staging post where they sometimes gather before flying off in formation to that tree.
One of the babies flew off in a completely different direction (possibly its designated safety spot under a shrub - I've seen other youngsters take the same flight path under similar circumstances).
So I was left with one baby and its minder, who--I kid you not--appeared to be wrestling with a decision. It looked back and forth at the remaining food, the baby, and the direction of the summons. It did not look at me, the usual metre or two away. Then it quickly gobbled down a few more small scraps and took off to join the clan.
But here's the thing - the guardian left me with the youngster! It was not entirely vulnerable as it could fly a bit, and I'm pretty sure even a tweenager magpie could rearrange your face quite effectively before tripping over its own feet if it felt the need.
Now here I enter the dangerous territory of anthropomorphism, so I shall tread carefully.
In 16 years or so here I have never witnessed an act of aggression by a magpie towards either residents, cyclists, or pedestrians. It's a cul-de-sac, and the foot traffic is light, but they obviously breed nearby.
Magpies swoop not necessarily to defend their nests, but their pre-fledglings who are pushed out of the nest before they can fly, to be raised on the ground. Eventually (I'm guessing) the babies grow big enough to fly just well enough to not require this level of active swooping defence, but they are constantly supervised by elder siblings.
We know that magpies recognise human faces, so I imagine I was ID'd a long time ago as Mostly Harmless. My Darwinian and holistic eco approach to gardening (particularly as time went on and I was even less hands on) meant there were no pesticides, no manicured lawns, lots of deep natural mulch, plenty of worms, skinks, termites, and sundry yummy bugs around the place, and the pond as a reliable source of drinking water. Good feeding ground, Mostly Harmless human, check. When I was out by the pond for whatever reason, various maggies would use the pergola as a playground, hopping from timber to timber, right above my head. Maybe by that point I'd graduated to Probably Harmless. We frequently made eye contact from less than a metre apart, but I was careful to stay very still.
And then a couple of years ago I found the first mini-maggie lost and exposed in the backyard concrete jungle near the pond. So by then Probably Harmless human and Good feeding ground must have been upgraded to Safe place for the very young, although Mini Maggie had wandered a bit far away and became confused by concrete country.
It was then I looked up and realised that there was always at least one magpie on guard from a nearby high vantage point. Fortunately for my eyeballs I'd learned that magpies raise their young on the ground and this one did not require rescuing. So while I was able (and apparently permitted) to get quite close to Mini Maggie, I made no attempt to get *too* close. When Mini Maggie started making hungry noises I stayed inside and watched through the window, and we were both eventually rewarded by the arrival of a young adult who fed the baby. (Side note, the begging posture at that age included vigorous flapping motions, presumably to build up flight muscles. Sensible behaviour.)
Up until this point I hadn't made any attempt to feed any of the wild beasties on my block, but as the hungry cries continued in the long intervals between feeding times, I thought here was an opportunity to cement the bond and assure my future safety from magpie attack, particularly as there were now young ones so near by. The next time an adult came around to feed the baby and make it stfu (it ignored me by this point) I scattered a few bits of cooked chicken on the concrete and backed away.
The older magpie bravely sampled a couple of tiny pieces, fed a few to the baby who was too young to pick them up by themselves, then it stuffed its beak to the brim and flew away with the bounty. Eventually Mini Maggie moved on, but I was reassured by the now *very* familiar ongoing begging sounds, and hoped that meant it had been reunited with the clan rather than hit by a speeding train. After a failed, neglected, or outright rejected offering of cheese left in the same spot I stopped attempting to feed them, figuring out I was probably safe by now, given the liberties I'd been permitted while under guard.
Cut to this summer with no pond, so I put a dish of water out the front, somewhat sheltered by the bushes, but clearly visible from my bedroom window. Enjoyed once again the sight of various birds drinking there. Cut again to bin night, and the assessment of the Best Before date on the near ubiquitous Coles cooked chook in the fridge. Well past the use by date, but by now stored in a vacuum sealed bag and smelled fresh. Not something I'd want to test on Husband, but I reckoned the magpies would be able to cope.
And in a clearly failed attempt to cut this story short, I started to save chicken scraps and took them outside in the late afternoon when the magpies were out feeding. It only took one brave and curious bird to taste test, and then I had a bunch more. Early on one much larger and fully mature bird hopped closer to me (I was on a lower terrace so a lot closer in height than usual) and we eyeballed each other thoroughly. I even slowly turned my head from side to side to let it get a really good look at my face. I threw it some bits of chicken, and while the younger members of the clan withdrew a few steps in response to my movement, this bigger bird not only held its ground, but started catching bits I threw to it mid-air.
I felt I had passed muster with The Boss and the word was sent around that I was a Harmless human. Maybe even a Useful human.
Tempting though it was I did not set up a regular feeding routine (apart from time of day when the worst of the heat had gone, and always around the water dish). Sometimes I left food out and there were no takers, but something always ate it overnight. Sometimes one or half a dozen birds would gather at the feeding spot at dinner time and I deliberately *didn't* feed them. I halted feeding entirely for a while when I witnessed the full fledging/eviction of one of the butcher birds from its family nest next door. I only restarted when I had witnessed the recently evicted youngster successfully forage by itself, and then I lost track of it for a while. I also made sure that the magpies continued to forage for themselves, and was both disappointed and relieved when they failed to show up every time I appeared in the right time and place with now smaller servings. They were clearly not *dependent* on me for food. This is very important to me and I hope to continue on that path. But I found myself with company more and more often when I went outside, even when in a different part of the garden and sans food, and for a decent length of time. I made long eye contact with a few more family members to bolster the imprinting. I am in this relationship for the long haul.
Not sure why, but I haven't seen much of the senior magpies since I was given the apparent royal nod of approval.
And so to today, where I was left alone with one of the youngsters. Not that I took on guard duty until one of the older ones returned - I knew this one could fly - but I do believe that there is at least one wild magpie out there who thinks I am not merely a Harmless and Useful human, but also a Trustworthy human.
--
Magpie relations went up a notch this evening. I was feeding one of the older (but not senior) maggies who was shepherding and feeding two younger ones. The babies are having a growth spurt and are entirely out of proportion. They still have stubby beaks and a bit of fluff, but their legs are entirely too long for the rest of them. I've not seen this particular growth stage up close before.
The whole clan is frequently summoned by the leaders to (at a guess) chase crows or ravens out of their territory. As I was feeding this trio I heard the summons of the family song; the guardian responded, but stayed with the babies, suddenly eating much faster. The call rang out again and the other magpies around the place flew past towards a particular tree. Maybe this is their nesting tree, or in the middle or outer edge of their territory, but it's always a rallying point in the end. I say "in the end" because the light pole in our cul-de-sac is also a staging post where they sometimes gather before flying off in formation to that tree.
One of the babies flew off in a completely different direction (possibly its designated safety spot under a shrub - I've seen other youngsters take the same flight path under similar circumstances).
So I was left with one baby and its minder, who--I kid you not--appeared to be wrestling with a decision. It looked back and forth at the remaining food, the baby, and the direction of the summons. It did not look at me, the usual metre or two away. Then it quickly gobbled down a few more small scraps and took off to join the clan.
But here's the thing - the guardian left me with the youngster! It was not entirely vulnerable as it could fly a bit, and I'm pretty sure even a tweenager magpie could rearrange your face quite effectively before tripping over its own feet if it felt the need.
Now here I enter the dangerous territory of anthropomorphism, so I shall tread carefully.
In 16 years or so here I have never witnessed an act of aggression by a magpie towards either residents, cyclists, or pedestrians. It's a cul-de-sac, and the foot traffic is light, but they obviously breed nearby.
Magpies swoop not necessarily to defend their nests, but their pre-fledglings who are pushed out of the nest before they can fly, to be raised on the ground. Eventually (I'm guessing) the babies grow big enough to fly just well enough to not require this level of active swooping defence, but they are constantly supervised by elder siblings.
We know that magpies recognise human faces, so I imagine I was ID'd a long time ago as Mostly Harmless. My Darwinian and holistic eco approach to gardening (particularly as time went on and I was even less hands on) meant there were no pesticides, no manicured lawns, lots of deep natural mulch, plenty of worms, skinks, termites, and sundry yummy bugs around the place, and the pond as a reliable source of drinking water. Good feeding ground, Mostly Harmless human, check. When I was out by the pond for whatever reason, various maggies would use the pergola as a playground, hopping from timber to timber, right above my head. Maybe by that point I'd graduated to Probably Harmless. We frequently made eye contact from less than a metre apart, but I was careful to stay very still.
And then a couple of years ago I found the first mini-maggie lost and exposed in the backyard concrete jungle near the pond. So by then Probably Harmless human and Good feeding ground must have been upgraded to Safe place for the very young, although Mini Maggie had wandered a bit far away and became confused by concrete country.
It was then I looked up and realised that there was always at least one magpie on guard from a nearby high vantage point. Fortunately for my eyeballs I'd learned that magpies raise their young on the ground and this one did not require rescuing. So while I was able (and apparently permitted) to get quite close to Mini Maggie, I made no attempt to get *too* close. When Mini Maggie started making hungry noises I stayed inside and watched through the window, and we were both eventually rewarded by the arrival of a young adult who fed the baby. (Side note, the begging posture at that age included vigorous flapping motions, presumably to build up flight muscles. Sensible behaviour.)
Up until this point I hadn't made any attempt to feed any of the wild beasties on my block, but as the hungry cries continued in the long intervals between feeding times, I thought here was an opportunity to cement the bond and assure my future safety from magpie attack, particularly as there were now young ones so near by. The next time an adult came around to feed the baby and make it stfu (it ignored me by this point) I scattered a few bits of cooked chicken on the concrete and backed away.
The older magpie bravely sampled a couple of tiny pieces, fed a few to the baby who was too young to pick them up by themselves, then it stuffed its beak to the brim and flew away with the bounty. Eventually Mini Maggie moved on, but I was reassured by the now *very* familiar ongoing begging sounds, and hoped that meant it had been reunited with the clan rather than hit by a speeding train. After a failed, neglected, or outright rejected offering of cheese left in the same spot I stopped attempting to feed them, figuring out I was probably safe by now, given the liberties I'd been permitted while under guard.
Cut to this summer with no pond, so I put a dish of water out the front, somewhat sheltered by the bushes, but clearly visible from my bedroom window. Enjoyed once again the sight of various birds drinking there. Cut again to bin night, and the assessment of the Best Before date on the near ubiquitous Coles cooked chook in the fridge. Well past the use by date, but by now stored in a vacuum sealed bag and smelled fresh. Not something I'd want to test on Husband, but I reckoned the magpies would be able to cope.
And in a clearly failed attempt to cut this story short, I started to save chicken scraps and took them outside in the late afternoon when the magpies were out feeding. It only took one brave and curious bird to taste test, and then I had a bunch more. Early on one much larger and fully mature bird hopped closer to me (I was on a lower terrace so a lot closer in height than usual) and we eyeballed each other thoroughly. I even slowly turned my head from side to side to let it get a really good look at my face. I threw it some bits of chicken, and while the younger members of the clan withdrew a few steps in response to my movement, this bigger bird not only held its ground, but started catching bits I threw to it mid-air.
I felt I had passed muster with The Boss and the word was sent around that I was a Harmless human. Maybe even a Useful human.
Tempting though it was I did not set up a regular feeding routine (apart from time of day when the worst of the heat had gone, and always around the water dish). Sometimes I left food out and there were no takers, but something always ate it overnight. Sometimes one or half a dozen birds would gather at the feeding spot at dinner time and I deliberately *didn't* feed them. I halted feeding entirely for a while when I witnessed the full fledging/eviction of one of the butcher birds from its family nest next door. I only restarted when I had witnessed the recently evicted youngster successfully forage by itself, and then I lost track of it for a while. I also made sure that the magpies continued to forage for themselves, and was both disappointed and relieved when they failed to show up every time I appeared in the right time and place with now smaller servings. They were clearly not *dependent* on me for food. This is very important to me and I hope to continue on that path. But I found myself with company more and more often when I went outside, even when in a different part of the garden and sans food, and for a decent length of time. I made long eye contact with a few more family members to bolster the imprinting. I am in this relationship for the long haul.
Not sure why, but I haven't seen much of the senior magpies since I was given the apparent royal nod of approval.
And so to today, where I was left alone with one of the youngsters. Not that I took on guard duty until one of the older ones returned - I knew this one could fly - but I do believe that there is at least one wild magpie out there who thinks I am not merely a Harmless and Useful human, but also a Trustworthy human.
