Photo: Pauline Wilkinson By Etsuko Yasunaga
IT WAS a warm summer day in January. The doom and gloom of 2020 lockdowns were behind us, and we were somehow optimistic, enjoying the return of the normality of life. A good friend Peter from Melbourne visited and stayed with us for a couple of days for a long-awaited reunion.
One morning a lady with a little bundle in her hands greeted us, walking through our carport and the side of the house then on to our back garden. She was a volunteer from the wildlife rescue in Tarwin Lower, and she was carrying a young magpie called Maggie. Apparently Maggie was found injured at the top of our street a few weeks ago. A few of the air sacs in her lung were damaged; hence her respiratory system was badly affected.
After a certain rehabilitation period at the rescue centre, all injured animals have to be returned to where they were found if they are recovered or they have to be euthanised.
According to the lady, Maggie was recovering well and could walk, hop and jump up the steps but still couldn’t fly. She had learned to listen to the sound of worms under the ground, and she would be able to feed herself. The lady gave us a tiny container with a small piece of ox heart just in case Maggie couldn’t find food.
We don’t have a pet in our household to disturb the bird and our back garden was abundant with plenty of vegetables and plants - an ideal environment for releasing Maggie. I was quite excited about the prospect of feeding her and an opportunity to observe a wild bird very close in our back garden for a few days. Maggie walked with an awkward gait, hopping and jumping from time to time. Finally she jumped up quite high to the top of the bench where she could perch herself. Being an immature juvenile, Maggie had less distinct plumage. Nonetheless she had a certain charm.
For the first ten minutes or so, Peter and I watched her from the kitchen table attentively. Maggie didn’t move much other than once dropping white poop over the edge of the bench. We had a giggle. She just perched herself there, looking around knowingly.
After a while we paid less attention to the bird since not much was happening. We went back to our leisurely talks and the newspaper puzzles. It was one of those carefree days when the clock ticking lost its significance. What else was there to do on a lazy summer day? Every now and then we noticed Maggie spreading her wings as if she was about to take off. She was almost off air. We got excited. We thought we may witness a significant moment of her flying off soon. Anticipation was high, but nothing happened – false alarm. Another attempt, then nothing. Peter even said, “Not only boring for us but it must be so for Maggie to be sitting there all day, doing nothing.” She was still perched at the top of the bench. I thought “Poor Maggie, she is not ready to fly yet. She hasn’t found the food either. I may need to feed her the ox heart in a day or so.”
All of a sudden, Maggie spread her wings once more and flapped them a few times. This time the shakes looked powerful enough. Her tiny feet were no longer clinging to the top of the bench and she was levitating. The next moment, she was off. She flew over the fence in one mighty flight. All that time of sitting, which looked like she was doing nothing, she was possibly waiting for the right moment. She was gathering all her energy. For her to survive, she had to fly. Within an hour of the release, Maggie was gone. At last she was free, and flew away with her own vigour and strength. It was a joyous and triumphant moment to witness and we were utterly relieved and elated.
A few days later we detected a foul smell in the laundry. It was a rotten ox heart piece for Maggie that we didn’t need to use and totally forgot to discard. For a few weeks afterwards, every time I saw a young magpie that looked like her during my walks, I used to talk to the bird. “Are you Maggie? Do you remember me? How are you keeping? Hope all is well with you”. Sounds a bit silly but I couldn’t help it.
This is her first spring since she was released. Who knows, she might be nursing her chicks for the first time this season. As we continue to be in the confinement of numerous lockdowns, the thought of Maggie flying freely somewhere in the Inverloch sky warms my heart. I wish her well.
According to the lady, Maggie was recovering well and could walk, hop and jump up the steps but still couldn’t fly. She had learned to listen to the sound of worms under the ground, and she would be able to feed herself. The lady gave us a tiny container with a small piece of ox heart just in case Maggie couldn’t find food.
We don’t have a pet in our household to disturb the bird and our back garden was abundant with plenty of vegetables and plants - an ideal environment for releasing Maggie. I was quite excited about the prospect of feeding her and an opportunity to observe a wild bird very close in our back garden for a few days. Maggie walked with an awkward gait, hopping and jumping from time to time. Finally she jumped up quite high to the top of the bench where she could perch herself. Being an immature juvenile, Maggie had less distinct plumage. Nonetheless she had a certain charm.
For the first ten minutes or so, Peter and I watched her from the kitchen table attentively. Maggie didn’t move much other than once dropping white poop over the edge of the bench. We had a giggle. She just perched herself there, looking around knowingly.
After a while we paid less attention to the bird since not much was happening. We went back to our leisurely talks and the newspaper puzzles. It was one of those carefree days when the clock ticking lost its significance. What else was there to do on a lazy summer day? Every now and then we noticed Maggie spreading her wings as if she was about to take off. She was almost off air. We got excited. We thought we may witness a significant moment of her flying off soon. Anticipation was high, but nothing happened – false alarm. Another attempt, then nothing. Peter even said, “Not only boring for us but it must be so for Maggie to be sitting there all day, doing nothing.” She was still perched at the top of the bench. I thought “Poor Maggie, she is not ready to fly yet. She hasn’t found the food either. I may need to feed her the ox heart in a day or so.”
All of a sudden, Maggie spread her wings once more and flapped them a few times. This time the shakes looked powerful enough. Her tiny feet were no longer clinging to the top of the bench and she was levitating. The next moment, she was off. She flew over the fence in one mighty flight. All that time of sitting, which looked like she was doing nothing, she was possibly waiting for the right moment. She was gathering all her energy. For her to survive, she had to fly. Within an hour of the release, Maggie was gone. At last she was free, and flew away with her own vigour and strength. It was a joyous and triumphant moment to witness and we were utterly relieved and elated.
A few days later we detected a foul smell in the laundry. It was a rotten ox heart piece for Maggie that we didn’t need to use and totally forgot to discard. For a few weeks afterwards, every time I saw a young magpie that looked like her during my walks, I used to talk to the bird. “Are you Maggie? Do you remember me? How are you keeping? Hope all is well with you”. Sounds a bit silly but I couldn’t help it.
This is her first spring since she was released. Who knows, she might be nursing her chicks for the first time this season. As we continue to be in the confinement of numerous lockdowns, the thought of Maggie flying freely somewhere in the Inverloch sky warms my heart. I wish her well.