Almanac Life: ‘Maggie’ Season (the feathered variety)

 

 

 

Ever been swooped by a magpie in Australia? Of course you have. I’ve witnessed hard men regress to quivering children after copping that horrible sound of flapping wings as the ‘maggie’ adjusted its velocity from ‘maximum’ to ‘ramming’ speed.

I spent the first 17 years of my life as one of 9 children in a developing township in Western Australia called Kwinana, about 40km south of Perth. It was a very lower socio-economic area in the 60s and 70s built by migrants predominantly from the UK, who came out on the ’10-pound trip’ to work on the enormous industrial area nearby in Cockburn Sound (pronounced Ko-burn).

We lived in the oldest section of Kwinana, named Medina, a town dominated by housing commission homes like ours and surrounded by acres of virgin bushland which became our playground. We walked everywhere in this ‘Huck Finn-like’ utopia and we soon learned all the shortcuts through the bush.

Your only fears were the ‘double gee’, a four pronged prickle that could penetrate a thong and, if it was night time, running into a cobweb and frantically trying to get it, and the presumably huge spider, off your being!

We soon learned that come the first day of Spring, September 1, we had another adversary to deal with. The WA magpie has some serious attitude and walking around so much bush as a kid, my memories of our frequent confrontations are still triggering at the ripe old age of 59.

In Melbourne at the moment we are experiencing another typically unpredictable spring with chilly and wet conditions. As I still love walking and hiking, something definitely derived from my childhood, I often follow the Gardiners Creek in Melbourne’s East where I live.

I have never been swooped in the 11 years I’ve lived here but I have seen the occasional child and dog swooped when they have moved to an exposed area like a footy oval. Despite the easy target, the local maggies are ‘soft’ after months of sucking down a plethora of fat worms and they never really get close enough to their intended victims.

WA maggies, on the other hand, have stealth and mongrel. They will always attack when least expected and, in doing so, will embarrass you by making sure they often do it in very public places. The site of an unsuspecting West Australian dealing with an unmerciful, violent maggie can actually be highly amusing…as long as it’s not you!

The best spot to observe such goings on in Medina was the main drag, Medina Avenue. To this day it’s a beautiful tree-lined street and, right opposite the Salvo’s Hall, was a huge gum tree that every year housed the most kamikaze maggies I’ve ever seen.

Every day, to and from primary school I had to walk past that tree and, for 2 months of every year, you had to be on your guard. If you were with friends, they stayed away but, on your own, you never stood a chance.

Everyone would be familiar with the sound these birds make with their wings to slow down before striking, but the WA magpie has a surreptitious approach.

One of the ways to deter a maggie is to look at them and walk backwards. I tried this in vain whilst playing golf with my younger brother Glen on holiday one summer at Preston Beach, a stunning seaside town between Mandurah and Bunbury in WA.

As we walked down an expansive fairway to play our next shots he turned to me and said, “Watch out for the maggies, mate”. “Where?” I said, on edge immediately. “Over there,” he said, pointing to a gigantic gum. Given my ball was at least 100m further on from the tree, I was confident I would be out of maggie ‘range’.

Wrong! Thwack! Off came my hat!  By the time I regained my composure and my brother’s laughter had died down, I stared up at the tree which was a long way back but he was gone, camouflaged amongst the dense branches.

I reset and stood over the ball again but this time snapped my head back to see if he would come again. Silence. I addressed the ball again for a second time and this time I flung around with the club in hand ready to take him on. Nothing.

“He’s probably still pissing himself laughing, Bro!” joked Glen. Head down for the third time and a split second after hitting the ball he struck again, this time with a ‘full feather flurry’ whacking me on the head, then scattered.

In Victoria, we may not have lethal magpies but we do have the ‘trailer trash’ of birds, the plover. Apologies to anyone who loves these vermin but their attitude sucks. Their chicks are cute but they are inherently a nasty bird. They will swoop repeatedly for no reason using the spikes on their legs and they squeal like banshees. They look like they’ve had their head shaved on the sides and the rest tied in a ponytail. The only thing missing is acid wash stretch jeans and a packet of Winnie Blues strapped to a wing.

 

 

 

 

May Spring treat you well. Remember, don’t walk alone and, if you have to, walk backwards!

 

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