To the Magpies in My Street….

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Dear Magpies in My Street,

Welcome to Spring my feathered friends! A season where you guys get yourself quite worked up, having found your mate and begun your wonderful journey into parenthood.

You have chosen a very nice area to live, with plenty of trees to pull up stumps with, and a wide and varied community for you to attack at your will.

You see Magpies, my desk where I write over looks the street, and I can see the comings and goings of people, as they get about their day.

Yesterday one of you took it upon themselves to swoop an old lady as she walked on by with her little white dog. I ran out to check on her, and you sat up there, on the wire, continuing your intimidating behaviour.

This is just not right! You see, there are plenty of alternatives for you to release your anger on. For example, at about 8.30am, there are dozens of school kids who will make their way to their institute of education. These kids have been taught about you and your frisky ways, and are more prepared.

Sure, a few of them might come down with post traumatic shock, but they have years and years ahead of them to get over it. Little old ladies do not have such a luxury.

And please, don’t even THINK about having a go at me! For it is I that performs the role of security when your eggs DO hatch and your babies, all grey and ugly like, walk around my¬†lawn like they fucking own the place. Not yet able to fly properly, I make sure that they are safe by keeping the cat inside during those first wobbly weeks.

Dear Magpies in My Street. I understand that we have to co-exist in this world but I am not even remotely interested in stealing your eggs, or your babies. I have enough stuff going on without adding any newborns to the mix. All I ask is that you put your manners back in. And stop with the swooping already!

Yours in neighbourly Love,

Mrs Woog of number 7.

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Consider yourself warned…