My magpie friends are doing this bizarre thing over the last couple of days. See, in spring of 2024 I started putting out food for the magpies (azure-winged magpies to be specific) because I love watching those gorgeous little beasts’ antics. They literally started watching for me to come home from work and followed me until I got home and put out the food, smart buggers that they are. Then I left the country for almost two full months and thought they’d forget about me.
Not a chance. When I got back in August, they saw me coming in from work the next day and … back to business as usual.
But the acid test was spring of this year, when they got back from their winter homes down near Hainan. Would they remember me? As the first magpies started to show up, several of them started tapping at my window. So I put out the food. And it was like nothing had changed. They’d wait until I got home, I’d put out the food, and they’d eat.
But now it’s flocking time for Autumn and their migration to Hainan again. They’re starting to gather in Hitchcockian numbers in various trees. And they’re flying to my window when I’m home, rapping at the glass with their beak until I look, then flying away. Not stopping to eat.
My magpie friends are doing this bizarre thing over the last couple of days. See, in spring of 2024 I started putting out food for the magpies (azure-winged magpies to be specific) because I love watching those gorgeous little beasts’ antics. They literally started watching for me to come home from work and followed me until I got home and put out the food, smart buggers that they are. Then I left the country for almost two full months and thought they’d forget about me.
Not a chance. When I got back in August, they saw me coming in from work the next day and … back to business as usual.
But the acid test was spring of this year, when they got back from their winter homes down near Hainan. Would they remember me? As the first magpies started to show up, several of them started tapping at my window. So I put out the food. And it was like nothing had changed. They’d wait until I got home, I’d put out the food, and they’d eat.
But now it’s flocking time for Autumn and their migration to Hainan again. They’re starting to gather in Hitchcockian numbers in various trees. And they’re flying to my window when I’m home, rapping at the glass with their beak until I look, then flying away. Not stopping to eat.
I swear they’re saying goodbye.