written and posted by members of Lancashire Dead Good Poets' Society

Saturday 1 October 2022

Battling Magpies

 Magpies  divide opinion. It's almost black and white. I don't like them. Not at all. They may be handsome in their pied (particoloured) plumage, they may be intelligent (right up there with chimpanzees and dolphins as alpha animals), but they are noisy and unpleasant birds. They make a raucous clackety sound just like football rattles (if you remember them). And they are bullies. They mob and terrorise smaller birds and will kill and eat them if they can. I'm not superstitious, but I can understand why magpies have acquired an unsavoury reputation as devilish creatures, and I always chase them out of the garden if I see them, just so they cannot intimidate the sparrows.  

On the day after Russia attempted the biggest annexation of territory in Europe since Hitler in the 1930s, I've decided to give this blog a Slavic twist. I can't shift the mental image of Putin as marauding evil magpie. So I thought I'd delve into Russian and Ukrainian folklore to see what traditions there have to say about the pied one.

The avenging Russian Magpie
It is recorded that Ivan Vasilevich (1530-1584) better known as Tsar Ivan IV or Ivan the Terrible, became severely depressed after his wife died and this depression eventually deepened into a mad obsession with his own health. He surrounded himself with physicians wherever he went, employed a food taster, and kept everybody at a distance (parallels with the current president of mother Russia?), for he was convinced that witches were cursing him. That being so - as the myth goes - he ordered all the witches in Russia to be rounded up and brought to Moscow. He had them corralled in the main square within a great circle of straw bales which he ordered to be set on fire on every side. Flames engulfed the witches, black smoke 
and cackling screams rose into the air and then a strange thing happened. Out of the smoke flew a vast flock of magpies, one for every witch. They had shape-shifted and so evaded the fate which the mad Tsar had ordained for them. They flew to every part of Russia where they proceeded to exact revenge on humankind by stealing the souls of unborn children so they would be still-born, or if that failed they would try to peck newborn babies to death as they emerged from the womb. Scary stuff. No Russian mother-to-be wants a magpie anywhere near her to this day allegedly. They are a bad omen.

In Ukraine, by contrast, the magpie is regarded as a sacred bird and a messenger from the ancestors. Each March 9th the festival of Soroki is celebrated in honour of the Forty Martyrs. (Soroki conveniently means both forty and magpie.) It is also essentially a Rite of Spring. Little sweet cakes are made in the shape of magpies and these are blest and eaten in honour of departed souls which are thought to be revisiting while those still alive celebrate the rebirth of Earth after the harshness of winter. There is an indirect link to the country's famous sunflower symbol (dating back to ancient belief in a sun deity) and the Pysanka art of Ukraine often contains tracks of Magpie footprints, these being synonymous with the journey the sun has taken. I find all of that much more pleasing than the dark, cruel Russian myth.

Слава Україні. Glory to Ukraine.
Finally, this latest poem isn't really about Magpies. I couldn't bring myself to devote any creative effort to a bird I don't particularly care for. Nevertheless, they are present metaphorically for much of the poem, which documents some less than comfortable memories, and they do make an appearance in the final line.

Whose Fault Magpies?
Sorry Lincolnshire seaside town, what more to say?
Your proudest boast is you're not Grimsby.
That salt-eroded little station proclaims a welcome
but the hoarding might have stated a starker truth:
You've reached the end of the line.
The best bit about you always in my rear-view mirror.

Good for wind-farming, the constant wearing onshore 
howl through your open plan sanitorium of a town
once famed as a genteel retirement retreat, 
tang-fuelled and strong enough some days 
to sweep unwary promenaders off their feet,
but it never quite blows the pall of neuroses away. 

You screaming how you could kill your mother,
your sisters skewered by decades of parenting,
so much festering jealousy and ghostly resentment 
in a beige box as to make The Family Reunion
come across like a jolly holiday variety show.
I felt your pain but dreaded playing the outsider. 

I'm sure there must be calm days of soft sunshine
though in all my visits I never knew one,
just the steamy-windowed cafes with patrons
making mugs of coffee last way beyond cold,
queues of tramps waiting for the library to open,
grimy pubs primed with fizzy continental beers.

The unlikeliest touch, a novelty shop on the esplanade
that sold model trains and planes carved out of coal,
made me think prisoners, whether of war or dark
domestic crimes I never could decide. It matters not.
None were bought because what people really wanted
was anything to take the edge off living on the edge

and you were all dependent on your different drugs.
We queued once for take-away pizza, my suggestion,
a convention-defying bid for something ordinary,
and watched in silence as across the road 
on the immaculate lawn of the clifftop floral gardens
a bunch of magpies noisily pecked a starling to death.

To redress the balance somewhat and as a cheering musical bonus, here are The Dials with a slice of top notch pastoral English psychedelia. Just click on the song title to activate the YouTube link > Good Morning Mr Magpie 

Thanks for reading, S ;-)

38 comments:

CI66Y said...

Powerful poetry Steve. I liked your good pie, bad pie approach. Magpies are rumoured to have the blood of the devil on their tongues (don't know how it got there). Sorry we beat you today (LOL).

Nigella D said...

Magpies strut about so. They are not very likeable. Why do people salute them?

Jay McDaid said...

Ah but it's the irridescent blue and green which make a magpie.

Steve Rowland said...

Jay, that doesn't redeem them from their swaggering thuggery.

Boz said...

You've got it in for magpies, la! 😂

Martin Brewster said...

You've got it in for Cleethorpes (?) as well! 😱 Terrific poem though.

Anonymous said...

Interesting contrast between Russia and Ukraine.

Grant Trescothick said...

I wonder why it's acceptable for hawks to kill other birds but somehow it seems wrong for magpies to do so. This was a thought-provoking read and it seems to have provided you with a telling psychological character-test for Russia and Ukraine. I need to think about the poem.

Debbie Laing said...

Fascinating magpie folklore and a powerful poem.

Rod Downey said...

Interesting facts there. Perhaps if magpies sang as beautifully as blackbirds or thrushes they'd get better press. I thought your poem was awesome and I love that musical bonus.

Gemma Gray said...

I share your dislike of magpies. My observation is that they are noisy and aggressive birds. I liked the Ukrainian folk art (not sure that's a magpie) and was impressed by your poem. Something of a cathartic exercise?

Ross Madden said...

A stunning poem, Steve. 👏
I smiled, I cringed, and I reflected it's unusual for you to be so personal in your poetry. Less than comfortable memories indeed.

Mitch Carragher said...

Yes, but Jefferson Starship played in Grimsby :) That Dials song is great, wasn't so sure about the video tbh.

Seb Politov said...

Have you read 'Day Of The Oprichnik'? Reason I ask is because the author is Vladimir Sorokin (derived from magpie, as you mention in your blog). I recommend it. It is a satirical dystopian novel set a few years in the future when Russia is ruled by another mad Tsar and his henchmen.

Mary Jane Evans said...

Oh the tragedy and treachery to be found in seaside towns! A good poem, I thought. As for magpies, I tend to agree with you.

Deke Hughes said...

The gamekeeper from the nearby country park shoots magpies. He considers them vermin and a threat to his young game birds. Apparently magpie populations have trebled in recent years. He told me this at our local pub (proper ale, none of your fizzy continental stuff). Excellent poem again this week.

Harry Lennon said...

I read somewhere there's a link in the folk mind between magpies and midwives - might explain that grisly Russian myth about the birds tearing babies out of the womb! That's quite an acerbic poem, by your standards. Good though.

otyikondo said...

It wasn't just magpies you didn't like, was it? You didn't have much time for Cleethorpes, either. I assume it WAS Cleethorpes. Never been, but then again I don't think I've ever been ANYWHERE in Lincolnshire, not even as a brief flirtation while in York.

Ailsa Cox said...

You doing for Cleethorpes what Betjeman did for Slough? (LOL)

Anonymous said...

Thank you for support Ukraine 💙💛

Tif Kellaway said...

Russian magpies 'bad', Ukraine's magpies 'good' makes an interesting commentary on national psyches but I don't think that Ukrainian picture is of a magpie, more liked a dove? We've been to Cleethorpes. It was certainly very windy and not very warm.

Binty said...

Ooh, feisty.

Angela McG said...

Hmm..
I always rather liked magpies, perhaps they seemed like the 'underdogs' of popular imagination to me. I adored their colours. We had many visiting the garden in Blackpool when we lived there, and I never saw them attacking the smaller birds. In fact, I used to watch the visiting grey wagtail continuing to wag and bob around the patio when the magpie landed, seemingly unimpressed by the bluster and noise of it. I did see a sparrowhawk attacking a whole flock of sparrows, but it was not successful.
Mostly though, I wanted to say that I miss the magpies in our garden, now that we are in rural Southern Scotland. We saw one the other day, near a road in Dumfries, and that was an event that reminded me that we hadn't seen a magpie for a whole year!

Anonymous said...

Your blogs always give me food for thought and I always look forward to finding a bit of time where I can sit with a cup of tea and read them in peace. This piece is as fascinating as usual. Thank you. Yvonne

Simon Mason said...

They are quite striking birds, aren't they. Are they any more of a danger to smaller birds than crows or jays? (I don't know, so just asking...is it a size thing?) You are quite scathing about Cleethorpes, more than I would have expected from someone who lives in another seaside town with its share of 'living on the edge' issues.

Siân Foulkes said...

Blog very interesting especially the Ukraine folklore. I liked your poem, it described many a desolate seaside resort in winter for example Rhyl North Wales, Barri Town & Island.

Anonymous said...

I like magpies. I think we salute one to show our respect, one for sorrow.

terry quinn said...

I've had quite a few happy days in Cleethorpes. Smashing walks along the Prom. but the poem is first rate.

Another fascinating article. Congratulations.

Forget your popular music combos - try Rossini.

Andy D. said...

Your scathing poem's reference to The Family Reunion reminded me that we 'did' that at school. I'd quite forgotten. I can't imagine it gets much of a look-in these days.

Lizzie Fentiman said...

Ah, we have what we call a magpie in Oz, probably because it's black and white, probably named magpie by English settlers, but it is nothing like the English/European magpie. It's not a corvid, it doesn't have that ruthless reputation and it sings beautifully. Aren't we the lucky ones.

Stu Hodges said...

I wouldn't know about magpies, but your folklore accounts were intriguing. And the poem - loved it, from the amusing ambiguity of the opening to the stark contrasting final imagery.

Ben Templeton said...

Putin as thieving Russian magpie. I get the symbolism. It's maybe a bit unfair on the bird, though the contrast between the Russian and Ukrainian views of the magpie is illuminating. Well done with the poem. The emotion invested in it is clear.

Dani Merakli said...

Interesting folklore and a biting poem. 👍

Peter Fountain said...

I think that's harsh about magpies. They're just trying to get by and feed their families like the rest of us. You're right about Cleethorpes though! At least Grimsby has grit and a football team.

Saskia Parker said...

They are prettier than crows but why do they have to savage smaller birds? I loved the strength of feeling in your poem.

Steve Rowland said...

I concede I may have been a trifle harsh on both magpies and Cleethorpes, but bloody beaks still tell a sorry tale.

Gilly Dawson said...

Sometimes the local magpies go on clacketting away into the night. I don't know what gets into them. It's no way to behave.

Anonymous said...

An excellent read. I love your poem too. And thanks for that introduction to The Dials.