MAGPIES

Mark called to let me know that the magpies are making nests in the tall trees. We couldn’t take time to discuss it. His bus was pulling up at the stop as he gasped out the news.
Most people would see this as a warning. Nests mean eggs. Eggs mean baby magpies. Baby magpies turn into noisy adolescent magpies. Noisy adolescent magpies turn into adults who build nests.
Most people dislike magpies. Robins are the perennial sign of spring. Even on the sunniest, toastiest, drippingest days in February magpie nests in Edmonton generally go uncelebrated. But Mark has called to share the joy. It’s more than just a promise of spring in February. He’s forgiven the magpie who unloaded on his upturned face as he gazed through the leaves. He’s remembering the baby he once rescued from the street, recalling how he sheltered it in the en suite bathroom of his high-rise apartment, recalling how it sailed away shortly after he moved it to the balcony.
Never one to sing along with magpies, I’ve nonetheless forgiven Mark for the role he may have played in increasing the magpie population. It’s another aspect of the personality that causes him to spend his time helping inner city street folks and children with disabilities. That long-ago magpie rescue was a foreshadowing of the work he was about to do. It might even be seen as an early exploration in fatherhood. Could these pre-leaf nest-builders be the grandchildren?