God Speaking Through Magpies?

I think a spiritual journey is not so much a journey of discovery. It’s a journey of recovery. It’s a journey of uncovering your own inner nature. It’s already there. Billy Corgan

I was out moving the sprinklers in the yard when I happened upon a pack of magpies on the south side of the house. Now, I know birds are routinely said to gather in flocks, and if one wants to get technical, a group of magpies is more properly referred to as a “Parliament” of magpies. I presume that’s because they are related to Ravens (a group of which is called a Congress).

It is tempting to theorize on why magpies and ravens are given such illustrious titles when gathered in a group (inane squawking and copious droppings come rather too quickly to mind), but such a mental exercise is beyond the scope of this modest monograph.

I referred to the magpies next to my house as a pack because they were engaged in a nefarious activity when I happened upon them. I’d startled them with my cat-like approach, and they took off like Roman Rockets, abandoning the focus of their attention, which was, surprisingly, an unopened pack of cigarettes!

I didn’t realize they smoked, and have no idea where they could possibly keep their matches. They had just managed to tear open the pack when I caught them. The poor darlings apparently don’t know about the easy-open cellophane pull-tab. It is a good thing I stopped them as I am sure they would have ignored the surgeon general’s warning.

Many people dislike magpies, and I understand. They’re noisy and obnoxious and seem intent on stealing whatever they can, wherever they can, whenever they can. Now, in my line of work I don’t generally condone thievery, but I admire magpies for their tenacity and for their ingenuity. On top of that, they are simply doing what they do best. They are being magpies.

Whatever else one might say about them, magpies are smart. You hardly ever see them getting hit by cars, although they’re always out there on the road grabbing a quick snack off some inattentive creature that failed to heed their warnings. You see, magpies have learned to warn one another to watch for traffic and, interestingly, on those few occasions they get hit by motor vehicles, more often than not they’re killed by trucks.

This has been both documented and studied, and behavioral scientists theorize it is because they know to cry “caw” when they see an automobile coming, but can’t say “truck”.

Anyway, I enjoy watching the local birds in action, and magpies – love them or hate them – seem to be amongst the smartest of the bird-brained neighbors we’ve got (and I think they know it).

You can never outsmart them and it’s illegal to shoot them, so they’ve got us right where they want us. When they find something that interests them, they grab it, fly off to a safe spot, post a lookout, and then explore their new-found treasure to their hearts content. If you stumble upon them, like I did, they fly off a few feet, stop, look, and either scold you for spoiling their fun, or laugh at your inability to catch them.

If they only knew. I have no desire to stop them in their frivolity, and I certainly don’t want to catch them. I like peace and quiet, and I’d have none of that if I had a house full of magpies. And if I COULD catch them, would I want to surround myself with the slowest and dumbest of the bunch (for that’s what they’d be)? Of course not!

I guess birds don’t bother me so much, even if they are raucous and messy, because they are what they are. It’s not my job to change or control them. It’s not my place to shoot them or run them over. In fact, if I accept them for what they are, I find my petty irritations pretty much disappear and I can get down to the business of actually appreciating what they have to offer.

It could well be that by stealing a pack of cigarettes, they were speaking to their victim on God’s behalf: “Listen to the surgeon general, fool!”

God certainly speaks to us in many ways in this, our valley.