Wednesday, 22 December 2010

Margaret's Pies

A few minutes ago, as I was sitting here contemplating a pre-prandial dry oloroso, I heard what sounded like a high-pitched road drill out in the back garden.  Has some child received an early present, I wondered? and do they do junior pneumatic drills now?  It wouldn't surprise me.

I went out to investigate.  It was a gang of magpies having a conference, or a war, hard to tell which as I don't speak magpie fluently, in my leafless copper beech.  There must be some tasty carrion somewhere nearby.  The local red kite flew over, glanced down and wisely decided to keep going.  The other birds were keeping their heads down.

Just for fun, I clapped my hands.  The magpies must have experienced gunfire or something in the past, because they all scooted off to the next-door-but-one's leylandiia.  I counted them out: there were seven.  So somewhere out there, there's a secret that can never be told.


  1. But what...? Never to be told...Magpies here sound like machine guns, ha, ha.

  2. That would be telling! But the rhyme, as I'm sure you know goes (loosely translated from the Magpie): "One for sorrow, two for joy, three for a girl, four for a boy, five for silver, six for gold, seven for a secret that can never be told." Actually, there may have been as many as ten. So perhaps I get a secret and a girl ...

  3. Eight for a wish
    Nine for a kiss
    Ten for a bird you must not miss

  4. Tim, I do believe you are a talking crossword.