One for Sorrow ...

One for Sorrow (Or The Murder of Murgatroyd) 

Stephen Alexander (2023)

 

 

I. 

 

It's striking how the death of an individual creature can have far greater emotional resonance than news of an entire species dying out. 

 

Thus it is that when I came across the body of a dead magpie this morning it filled me with genuine sorrow, whilst discovering that the Chinese paddlefish was declared extinct in 2022 left me almost entirely indifferent. 

 

That's not because I value our feathered friends more than our aquatic ones, it's just due to the fact that death only becomes real (conceivable) when reduced in scale and given a face, as it were. 

 

This applies to people as well as animals; reports of atrocities involving multiple fatalities don't move as much as the image of a single dead child (a fact often exploited by those looking to influence or emotionally manipulate public opinion).   

 

 

II.

 

Magpies, of course, belong to the crow family - widely considered to be the most intelligent of birds - and are famous for their beautiful black-and-white colouration and (in the European imagination) the fact that they love to steal shiny objects, such as wedding rings and other valuables.      

 

They are also thought to have an ominous aspect; to be a portent of good or bad fortune. According to English folklore, one is for sorrow, two for mirth; three for a death and four for a birth. The popular nursery rhyme builds upon this ornithomantic idea, albeit with different lyrics:

 

One for sorrow, 

Two for joy, 

Three for a girl, 

Four for a boy, 

Five for silver, 

Six for gold, 

Seven for a secret never to be told. [1]

 

There are many variants of this, but the key fact remains - as any fisherman will tell you - that a solitary magpie is never a good sign ...

 

In Piero della Francesca's painting of the Nativity scene, for example, a lonely magpie can be spotted on the roof of a ruined stone stable presaging the pain and sorrow that lies ahead (aguably for all mankind, not just Mary and her son).     

  

 

Piero della Francesca The Nativity (1470-75)

Oil on wood (124 x 123 cm)
National Gallery (NG908) [2]

 

 

Notes

 

[1] Like many of my generation, I know this version of the rhyme thanks to the children's TV show Magpie, (1968-80). Sadly, the popularity of this version - performed by The Spencer Davis Group as the programme's theme song [click here] - displaced many regional variations that had previously existed.

 

[2] Click here for more information on the work and its recent restoration. Keen-eyed birdspotters will doubtless also note the goldfinch - a symbol of redemption in devotional art - sitting in a bush on the left of the picture.

 

 

How Anti-Bird Spikes Became De Rigueur Nesting Material Amongst Corvids

Photo of an anti-bird spike nest by Auke-Florian Hiemstra

 

 

No sooner had I published a post on urban birds using rubbish to build their nests - click here - than I came across several news reports on a Dutch study in to how super-intelligent crows and magpies are ironically incorporating technology designed to deter them from making a home into their nest designs, something that has astonished even those who have long admired corvids for their cognitive skills.

 

Apparently, nests recovered from trees in Rotterdam and Antwerp, were found to be constructed almost entirely from strips of those long metal spikes often attached to buildings in order to prevent our feathered friends from nesting, or even finding a place to perch for a few moments. Whilst the crows seem to have simply utilised the spikes as a sturdy construction material, the magpies may have appreciated their intended purpose, as they positioned most of the spikes on the nest's roof where they could deter predators, including other birds and mammals.

 

Interestingly, rather than merely finding old strips of anti-bird spikes at rubbish dumps, a researcher claims that crows and magpies may even be removing the metal strips directly from buildings in an act of avian vandalism.

 

As Dewey Finn would say: That is so punk rock!

 

 

Note: for more on this story visit the BBC News Science & Environment page: click here.