An ode to the Magpies

There are Magpies in my garden. I don’t mean one or two; there are dozens of them. A neighbour down the road feeds the blighters and they have learnt to sit and watch and wait. They’re cunnings critters. They stay put when I leave the house to hang out washing or sweep the path.

They don’t care when I mow the lawn or pile up some wood in the shed, but they move like lightning if I bring a cuppa and a piece of toast out into the sunny garden. They know, before I do, when the toaster has popped and they’re ready to swoop the moment I step out the back door with a slice of Soy and Linseed Burgin covered in butter and honey.

They’re quick. I mean, real quick. If I want to enjoy the sun with my breakfast, I need to approach the situation engaging with some serious strategising and planning. It’s all about bluff really. Trick is to wander out the door with the cuppa, but have the toast wrapped in a napkin. What they can’t see they don’t know apparently.

It’s been a learning curve of sorts. When I first moved into my little rented cottage in the country, I tried to get rid of them. Gidgee – my little dog - did a good job of chasing them off and for a few weeks they were hesitant to bother me. Then one afternoon my faithful little dog got tired of the effort and shared her water bowl with a cheeky Maggie looking for a quick dip. It was all over after that. They knew. Nothing to fear from that hairy hound. 

Since then, I’ve been watching them as they’ve been watching me.

Every now and then a few Galahs or Cockatoos join the crowd sitting on the clothes line and things get a bit heated. I mean there really is a pecking order. God help the wayward Galah who thinks he has first dibs on any scraps. Its every man for himself against the intruders should I drop a crumb or lose the napkin hiding my toast.

But, it’s been strangely comforting watching them lately. They’re not unlike most of us really. There’s a wide range of characters. There’s the shy ones who stand at the back and make a lot of noise but rarely get fed. There’s the bold bully who bolts his way through, short shifting the gears, right to the front of the gang for a quick swipe at the tasty crumbs. There’s the one who sneaks up like a stealth bomber idling by and easing his way past a few hungry beaks to snatch a prize as I look away.

They’re all here. Cranky, shy, bold, loud, aggro, nervous and ostracised. I’ve started just to accept them and my nerves are better for it and it’s having a roll-on effect.

Each day I generally try to meditate – at least I sit still and go through the motions - and lately the Maggies have had an influence on my practice. I’m not much good at it but over the last year or so my efforts have been more dodgy than ever. There’s a degree of anxiety and restlessness and fear that used not to be there. Bottom line; It’s not easy to sit still and feel very peaceful these days.

It’s bloody Covid that has made me this way I think. I’m anxious in a way I didn’t used to be. I’m guarded and afraid in a crowd. Despite any directives, I’m always the one wearing a mask in shops (which is actually pretty bloody sensible I think). I’m very nervous of words like ‘intubation’ and ‘variants’ and – although I have had the vaccination and support the need for us all to do so – I get a bit shaky when I read about blood clots and percentages.

Lately, though, I’ve started to sit still for my silent time out in the garden with the Magpies. It was a bit nerve wracking at first. I mean they are bolshy and pretty damn fearless. I imagined my eyes pecked out while I bled out on the lawn. Sure, I might have been overreacting a bit – it’s probably part of the general anxiety caused by Covid -  but we all know they can be pretty nasty if they want to be.

I mean, how many of us have grown up wearing ice-cream containers on our heads during their nesting season? Slowly though I just started to sit still out there with them and my meditation has taken a turn for the better. It’s not that I’ve experienced Nirvana or even had any great spiritual insights. Not at all. It’s just that I’ve started to relax a bit. 

I mean, we’re all going to die one day… right?  With or without Covid or cancer or cardiac failure. I figure it may as well be in my back garden, in the sun, under a cloud of black and white feathers. All I can do is live - now - and for now. All any one of us can do is be sensible and sit tight and deal with what’s happening now as best we can. 

So, get out in the sun, sit still for a while, breathe in and out deliberately and listen to the birds in the background. They’re not sweating the little stuff. They’re just watching and waiting and busying themselves being fully alive.

We’ll eventually come through this pandemic, we’ll face change and challenge as we always have done. Hope is real and it’s not the same as wishful thinking.

The Ground of our Being is solid and trustworthy. All will, eventually, be well.