Magpies, would it kill you to stop trying to kill me?
We don’t want your babies. I understand that you’re just trying to be a good parent, but seriously, you have to re-think this whole attack the humans thing because WE DON’T WANT YOUR BABIES.
Have you ever been inside a supermarket? If ever you bother to check out Coles or Woolworths or Aldi, you’ll see row after row of food. Some of it’s fresh. Some of it’s pre-packaged and ready to heat and eat. None of it has feathers on it. This is where most of us humans secure our sustenance and we really don’t need to supplement it with your chicks.
I understand that it’s the male magpies doing the attacking and that to some extent it’s about proving your worth to your mate, but guys, there has to be a less extreme way to do it. Rather than be the macho guy, may I suggest a romantic approach or even just taking the rubbish out or doing the dishes because this kamikaze stuff is going to catch up with you one day.
As a regular cyclist, I seriously cannot comprehend the level of intensity in your regular attacks on me. I still don’t understand what makes you believe that I’m coming for your young when I’m zipping past ‘your tree’ at 40km/h. I don’t even look like slowing down, so why oh why must you try to impose yourself on me?
If I was to stop the bike and start climbing the tree towards your nest, then I could fully understand you getting a little hot under the collar, but isn’t it clear that I don’t give a toss about your little ones?
I’m the guy who feeds you mince meat and bacon from my back deck. I’m the guy who comes out to listen to your beautiful songs. Honestly, what makes you think that I want to destroy your family?
You need to chill a bit. I think you’ll be a better father if you can just get a grip and relax. Go catch some worms or hassle the crows, but for God’s sake leave us humans alone.
To the particularly crazy magpies including the demented bird just south of Murrumbateman on the Barton Highway and the noisy warrior who lives down by Isabella Pond, I do hope your beak was jarred by the hard exterior of my bike helmet. Were you trying to scare me, or was that a genuine attempt to kill me?
And to the crazy bastard on William Slim Drive at Giralang, yes you did draw blood. I hope you’re satisfied.
Please, can we just get along?
[Ed’s note: the places in this story are in Canberra, where magpies are particularly vicious, possibly because they watch too much Question Time]
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