Mother Magpie and Pressured Plovers

Mother Magpie and Pressured Plovers

It was loud and persistent and noisy. I glanced curiously outside through the large window into our sunny backyard. There was a mother Australian Magpie with her young one running frantically behind her. The young one was hunched over, beak wide open and continuously demanding to be fed. Seemingly non flustered, the mother was resolutely picking up insect and worm, after insect and worm, and dashing systematically back and forth to the gaping, squawking beak of her baby. 

Australian Magpies are a medium sized robust bird, approximately sixteen inches in height. They  have very distinctive black and white markings. They are a common bird that lives across Australia and feeds quit happily in suburban back yards. Their beady, golden coloured eyes miss nothing; bright and alert they spend many hours on the ground in search of food. They have a strong functional beak that is white, tinged in blue with a whisper of black. Our mother magpie was busy watching for predators, feeding her young one and in the midst of it all, trying to gain some food for herself. Her baby was out of the nest now but barely old enough to fly. She would flutter haphazardly and eat a lot. 

This mother magpie and her baby came to our yard to feed regularly over several weeks. I could see them perched up in a rugged gum tree, gazing down at our yard, the baby always crying for food and the mother surveying the safety of the situation. She would wait for her moment and swoop  swiftly into our yard , coming to land near some invertebrate that had dared to move in our lawn, only to be joined by her noisy fledgling once food was obtained. Our dog perused the situation with nonchalance, allowing them to feed for while. Then with a sudden spurt of enthusiasm our dog would dash wildly towards the mother and her baby. The mother magpie would take off quickly to a safe distance and continue to watch. She was training her baby to defend herself. Almost an adult in height, with fluffy paler feathers, the baby would peck viciously towards my dog, who would back off. Then in crazy flight she would flutter towards the tree in the centre of our yard. Once at the tree, the young one would start scrambling up it’s rough trunk, clinging with it’s strong claws to the course bark, finally reaching the first branch. There she would rest until she was joined by her mother and the cheeping loudly for food would start all over again. Often throughout the day the mother magpie would pause in a distant tree to sing a series of pretty vocalisations of cheerfulness and joy before hastily attending to her baby once more.

While I have been enjoying the noisy magpies, my parents have had some nesting plovers at their house. In Australia our common plover is called a Masked Lapwing. They are a long-legged wading bird with a sooty head, grey body, snowy belly and bright yellow facial wattles. The breeding plover pair, after much deliberation, chose to lay their clutch of eggs in a small indentation on my parent’s grassy front lawn, only one foot away from the cement curb. There out in the open beside the road, the parent birds took patient turns in sitting on the four specked eggs and in vigilantly keeping all predators away from their nest. Cars drove close by, the garbage truck rumbled inches away, stopping to pick up and empty the garbage bins strategically placed by my parents away from the nest, children ran down the road, cars parked next to the nest and all the while the plovers sat and sat and sat. Recently a very damaging storm hit the Sydney area, travelling up the coastline to where my parents live. There in the middle of the night, torrential rains fell, jagged lightning lit up the sky and thunder rolled and crashed. Strong winds drove the rain sharply at angles, leaves swirled, branches broke, trees tumbled down, water gushed and all the time the little plovers sat and sat and sat. Wet and bedraggled, they endured through the storm. Yet when daylight came the plovers let out their trill cries of joy and gladness. 

The plovers and the mother magpie continued their songs of bright cheerfulness regardless of the pressure, dangers, stress, turmoil, and hunger they were enduring. They never faltered to lift their little heads and warble out their song. Am I like the birds when faced with times of discouragement, depression, pressure and stress, lifting my voice in praise to my God? Do I sing in bright joy, bringing gladness to my own heart, as my mind is lifted to heavenly places? God calls me to sing, to hum, to lift my voice in the light of His love, to dispel the clouds of gloom that try to settle on me.

Ps 100:1, 2 Make a joyful noise to the Lord, all the earth! Serve the Lord with gladness! Come into his presence with singing!

Ps 147:1 Praise the Lord! For it is good to sing praises to our God; for it is pleasant, and a song of praise is fitting.

Ps 13:6 I will sing to the Lord, because he has dealt bountifully with me.