Paying attention to magpies
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It is one of those peculiar late-winter days; neither warm nor of a particularly compelling coldness. In places, frost hugs the ground but with no real enthusiasm for the task. A distant sun, too bright to be pleasant, too subtle to be warm, watches over proceedings with an air of polite detachment. And on this day, the magpies have gathered in force.
Magpies are a common site in the view from my office window; as much a part of the scenery as the factory across the street on whose roof they perch. The factory makes glass, and by the regular crashing sounds I hear, isn't very good at it. I'd never paid much attention to magpies before I came here. I'd never had to. If I were making a list of things to do, paying attention to magpies wouldn't be on it. These days their antics are a regular source of entertainment whenever I need a break from staring at my screen.
Today there are seven of them; each with their own personalities, motivations and talent for mischief. On any other day, they gather in pairs or groups of three or four. To see this many is unusual. I suspect they're planning something. I've already seen one of them pecking at a security camera while the others keep a look out. If not for the cameras, they would have free reign. Nobody ever suspects a magpie. Why would they?
It's a wonder they haven't tried something sooner. Like most crows, magpies are not unintelligent creatures. I know for a fact I've met less intelligent humans. Should they choose to band together and hatch some fiendish scheme, I have no doubt magpies would enjoy great success. Thankfully, thus far, their most ingenious plans seem to have involved chasing and/or scaring things off; usually other birds or each other. When it snowed a couple of months ago, I watched one of them dig a tunnel by lying on its belly and pushing itself along with its back feet, but that's as intelligent as it's gotten.
But what if it's all a rouse? What if their intention is to lull us all into a false sense of security with their acts playful yet seemingly innocuous mischief? What if the security camera on the factory wall is but the first of many?
In sufficient organised numbers, they could be terrifying. Not a milk bottle top or unguarded item of jewellery in the country would be safe. If one solitary magpie supposedly brings bad luck, imagine the collected misfortunes of a small army of them.
In the time it's taken to write this, they’ve left the camera alone. The mischief seems to have abated and some of them have flown off. The rest are just sitting around being magpies. Perhaps I was wrong about them planning something.
I don't know why I'm writing about magpies or their schemes any more than I know why you're still reading about them. Perhaps more worrying is whether or not you now believe they're up to something sinister. I suppose it's how a mind, like mine, that spends its days solving problems by coding solutions, seeks distraction. Maybe life would be simpler if I were a magpie. Or maybe the schemes would be real.