(Photo by Doug Murray)
Headed up to the local java haunt this morning for a cup of coffee and some friendly chat among friends who gather there.
A few minutes into my visit, one of the regulars said, "Hey, you're the one who works at that nature center, right? Let me ask you something: Why do the magpies chase and kill the little songbirds in my back yard? They gang up on them."
He was sincerely upset about the fact that these stunning black-white-navy birds appeared to be hard-core killers, preying gangland-style upon little birds such as the finch pictured above at one of our feeders. I listened as he went on passionately about how these treacherous magpies congregated in great groups in the trees around his home and didn't eat their kill right away.
After asking me a second time why these vicious magpies attacked other birds for seemingly no reason, the guy finally waited for an answer. Now, I haven't studied magpies exclusively, but I have been doing a lot of research lately on ravens and the Corvidae family to which ravens, crows, jays and magpies belong ("corvids").
While each species has its peculiarities, some things are similar, such as the fact that all are omnivores. That means they eat a combination of plants and animals. For magpies, this means a lot of insects and seeds, along with eggs and fledglings of other bird species and the occasional small mammal or songbird.
This information did little to satisfy my fellow coffee-drinker. "They're mean," he said in a tone that implied the conversation was over. But I didn't let it die. Corvids, I said, are among the smartest creatures on Earth -- smarter, some experts have said, than even the great apes. They can figure out problems and create tools. It is how they manage to fulfill their wide dietary requirements and thrive on every continent in the world.
Magpies have even been recorded having "funerals" for fallen members of their species. A magpie that spots one of its own dead calls to others, and soon a mass of them are in the trees overhead squawking as a few members of the group walk slowly around the dead bird. Probably, the ritual is one in which the birds are trying to figure out what danger lurks nearby and warn other magpies of the threat. It illustrates that these birds have a complex communication system.
Still, people love to hate magpies. Less than 100 years ago, local governments offered bounties for dead magpies. In a 2005 interview with the show "Life on Earth," Kevin McGowan, of the Cornell Lab of Ornithology, said that the hatred of magpies, ravens and crows likely dates back to early western Europe. The region is devoid of native vulture species, so corvids were the birds that ate carrion (the carcasses of dead animals). As a result, they were associated with death and disease, even though all they were doing was cleaning up after such things.
In North American indigenous societies, corvids -- especially ravens -- have long been revered for their resourcefulness and intelligence. Ravens, in fact, figure prominently in many of these cultures' creation stories.
Humans are funny when it comes to predators. Mention the term at your next dinner party, and people will think you're talking about a military weapon or a sicko who preys upon children. Both are human-centric meanings that add evil intent.
But for most of nature's predators, preying on other animals is a matter of food. The only intention is a full belly. Because of our culture's knee-jerk aversion to the idea that animals eat other animals, that is one of the most difficult lessons I have to teach children. It typically occurs when we are walking past the cage of one of our center's resident raptors just as the bird is pulling the head off of a dead quail, mouse or rabbit. I remind children that without the gifts these smaller animals have provided with their lives, the eagle or hawk in front of them would starve to death.
A robin is a predator, as it eats earthworms. The American kestrel, our smallest falcon, is a predator that eats grasshoppers. No one weeps for the worms or the grasshoppers. But we despise the polar bear for eating a baby seal or the mountain lion for taking a fawn. Many of us seem to be inclined to determine what animals should live based on whether we think they are pretty or cute. That is a perilous path to follow. Biodiversity requires all of Earth's creatures, pretty or not.
My coffee colleague remained unwavering in his loathing of the magpies, even after learning that the birds may have been caching their kills for later -- a behavior they use when food is plentiful. He doesn't mind that the magpies need to eat. He just doesn't want them killing stuff where he can see it. "It's mean," he said, projecting human emotions and ethics onto a bird that lives by different rules.
I didn't have the heart to tell him that he'd be better off with a video than a bird feeder. When we choose to feed wildlife in our yards, we choose -- knowingly or not - to witness all that their lives encompass.
For the "Life on Earth" show about magpies, check out:
http://www.loe.org/shows/segments.htm?programID=05-P13-00021&segmentID=7
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