For anyone who may be new to this blog I will briefly explain that a few years ago I hand reared a baby magpie chick who although lived outside used to tap on the window every morning to come in and would sashay across the table and either sit on my laptop or steal a pen and fly away. If I called out Mrs Magpie she would fly down from some tree and land on my shoulder, peck my ear and tell me off about something. Sometimes in the morning I'd find her roosting on top of the cupboard in the kitchen having spent the night there. Then over a year ago now she found a mate and I realised Mrs Magpie was infact Mr Magpie. They'd meet every evening in the apple tree at six thirty in the evening and sit on a branch next to each other. If she was late he'd fly onto the roof of the house and call out for her. Eventually they flew off together and I didn't see them again.
Then - last week as I was talking on the phone in the front garden there came a call from the cherry tree and there was Mr Magpie. He chatted for a long time, no doubt telling me about the handsome family he'd produced though he hadn't brought them round to show me. Then he flew to the poly tunnel where he'd been raised when learning to fly with me in hot pursuit. Of course after over a year he would hardly fly to my shoulder but he continued squawking and then flew off over the fields.
I haven't seen him again and probably won't but I loved that he had heard my voice in the front garden and came to tell me that all was ok and he was still alive.
Billie who was not alive when he hung out at the house thought a bee was much more interesting and I doubt she'd have been so generous sharing a room with magpie when he/she was young and had to be kept warm inside. The magpie not Billie. Neither of the cats or Scout the old wolfie we had then or Rocket minded and sometimes the bird and Pocket would be next to each other on the table. I daresay Pocket was wary of him/her though of course would never admit to it.
Rocket told me that Pocket had started speaking in
strange tongues and he'd had to cover his ears up as it was so annoying.
We hvae to udnretsnad taht nboody is cmonig to svae us from oruslvees said Pocket as he wafted past. I asked him what on earth he was talking about.
Typoglycemia he muttered
the brain can still understand words even when internal letters are jumbled up as long as the first and last letter remain in their correct position. But that's words written down I say - not spoken - it doesn't make sense spoken and what are you saying?
We have to understand that nobody is coming to save us from ourselves - and you don't expect me to be writing and reading as well as everything else do you?
Carl Sagan said that I told him but he merely pursed his lips and said
do you mean Cral Sgaan?
Pocket has also taken to following us on our walks which makes Billie so excited she leaps up and down and turns into a spinning top. It is rather annoying but I love that Pocket wants to do whatever we are doing. I told him I might take up sky diving but he ignored it.
View from the kitchen window
Magpie
I am the magpie from your cherry tree
I'm surprised you don't recognoise me
I know I've been gone a year
but now I bow down to you in greeting.
If you don't believe me I'll show you
my nest built from your pens
which I stole
also your letter from the DVLA
and the wedding ring you threw on the floor.
One for sorrow they say
what existential nonsense
but let me tell you
I have a mate now
and two truly is for joy.
Linda Coggin April 2025
