The magpie is always up to some devilment

For a bird that is not one of our own, the magpie has well and truly embedded itself in our culture – for better or worse! The trouble is that the magpie is deeply connected to superstition, and when it comes to superstition, the Irish are inclined to sit up and take notice. In the same way that few of us will chance walking under a leaning ladder, fewer still will notice a lone magpie and ignore it. And so, those of us who live in this mountain region will be aware of the bird that demands respect while encouraging disdain in equal measure.

We are all familiar with the age-old rhyme, One for sorrow, Two for joy. I find myself saying it when a magpie appears and often think myself foolish for having such a childish response… but then, best not to mess with tradition because there is always a grain of truth in there somewhere.

Origins 

My first thought about the magpie in the Ox Mountains is that it is not native; not to our region, not to our country. I understood that the magpie was a ‘prize’ from the age of exploration when sailors captured them in Japan and brought them home as a gift to their benefactors to help colour up their leafy estates. But I was wrong. It seems the magpie arrived from the Orient alright but through natural migration rather than sneaking a spin on a passing ship.

Éanna Brophy, writing in The Irish Times in May 2023, gives a bit of background on the piebald menace that was once seen as an exotic addition to our wild bird population.

The first magpies are thought to have arrived in south Wexford around 1676 when a small flock flew over from Wales. Today they are common everywhere in Ireland. But the proliferation of their avian homesteads can and does cause tension between man and magpie. We sometimes see headlines about people complaining about a rapid increase in magpie numbers. But the birds might be justified in looking at it another way. Humans have increasingly been building their houses and roads in areas where the magpie, as well as other wildlife, once held sway.

However, it seems the magpie was here much earlier than Éanna suggests. Jean M. Linsdale, writing in her paper, The Natural History of Magpies (1933), has more interesting news for us. Fossil remains of magpies were once found in Newhall caves in Co Clare. These remains dated back to the Pleistocene Era, commonly referred to as the Great Ice Age.

Eurasian Magpie 

So, what we have among us today is the Eurasian or Common Magpie. Quite common, or all too common, I would suggest. They are on the crow team of birds and take their place as centre back, between wing backs, jackdaw and jay – the raven, rook and grey crow making up the full-back line. The magpie is a resident breeding bird found throughout the northern part of the Eurasian continent. The only other magpie in Europe is the Iberian magpie, which is limited to the Iberian Peninsula and is a distant cousin, playing down at corner-forward and sporting a fine tan!

The magpie is one of the most intelligent birds, and indeed it is believed to be one of the most intelligent of all non-human animals. It has been found that its brain is similar in relative size to the brains of chimpanzees, gorillas, orangutans and humans. It is the only bird known to pass the Mirror Test, along with very few other non-avian species. This test shows that the beast taking the exam has the ability to recognise itself in a mirror.

An unidentified source provides the following on the origin of the name. Personally, I’m not so sure but it could have some basis in fact. In my defence, let me state, I’m only saying what I heard in the street!

Magpies were originally known as simply "pies". The prefix "mag" dates from the 16th century and comes from the short form of the given name Margaret, which was once used to mean women in general (as Joe or Jack is used for men today); the pie's call was considered to sound like the idle chattering of a woman, and so it came to be called the "magpie".

Superstition 

Connie Churcher, of Horniman Museum and Gardens in London, has this to say about the magpie:

In ancient Rome, the magpie was associated with magic and fortune-telling, while in Scandinavia some witches rode magpies or turned into them. In Germany, the bird was considered a bird of the underworld and in Scotland, it was said that magpies had a drop of the devil’s blood on their tongues. Outside of Europe, the magpie has a much more positive image. In Native American legends, the magpie was considered a friend of hunter-gatherer tribes. In Korea, the magpie is thought to bring good news and in China, it is a symbol of happiness, foretelling and good fortune.

The folklore surrounding the magpie is plentiful and varied. At a basic level, they are always into devilment of some sort, from stealing shiny objects to raiding other birds’ nests. There is little that escapes their beady eyes. Should a poor man get distracted on his way from the hen house, and be made to leave down his fresh eggs in a safe place, a magpie will arrive from nowhere within minutes and gobble up the lot. There are few disasters more irritating. If you own laying hens, try it sometime and just see how long it will take a magpie to swoop and devour your exposed eggs.

Then, there is that flaming rhyme: One for sorrow, two for joy, three for a girl and four for a boy. Five for silver, six for gold and seven for a secret that can never be told! 

Maybe it’s just the superstitious gene in us but who can ignore such a litany of dread and promise? And the strange thing is, it’s nearly always one, that one for sorrow. We might desperately search for the joyous second, but they seldom appear when needed. One method of dealing with the single magpie syndrome, and avoiding the promise of bad luck, is to address the feathered fiend (not a misprint) by saying, “Good morning, Mr Magpie.” This, it would appear, sets the Sorrow Clock back to zero. But hey, get this; that old rhyme has a few more lines: Eight for Heaven, nine for Hell, and ten for the Devil’s own self. Give me a break!

Place in Nature

Sometimes it can be difficult to figure out what value a particular animal or bird might have in an ecosystem. We all know that the fox is here to teach us a lesson when we forget to lock up our hens at night and we know that the grey crow is here to pick the eyes out of our newborn lambs, but what of the magpie? Well, there is…? Gosh, it really is difficult to see what their value is in the natural order of things. I imagine, like most living creatures, we will only know their true value when they disappear.

In the meantime, I am going to maintain a healthy (superstitious) respect for the magpie. If I meet lots of them together, I will take all the good luck they have on offer. If I meet just one, I will raise my hat and say, “Good morning, Mr. Magpie.”