The State of the Magpies (Part 3)

These "State of" posts are to fill everyone in on the bird community around our house. I've told you about the magpies, though: Maggie and his family, Vicky, Sophie, Wendy, and this year's bub, Josie, and then on the other side Billy, Maggie's adopted younger brother who seems to have had a big group of bubs with his partner, Polly. So I'd better get on and tell you about the other birds in the community.

First we have Butch and Cas, pied butcherbird parents whose territory roughly coincides with Billy's, but who eat cheese with Maggie's gang. Their bub from two years ago is still here, Dimpy, whose photo at various ages is here and there on the site. Then there's last year's bub, Kerry, who is still grey (a 'teenager'). There are new bubs around somewhere, because they are all stacking food in their beaks and flying back into the main part of their territory; but they haven't brought them to see us yet. Butch and Cas's previous brood, twins called Teddy and Tommy, saved Gitie's life from a snake, I am absolutely convinced of that. They are now living down the road a bit and call out a special call when we go past. (Gitie used to call them "TeddyTom", and they imitate it, with a "TooTooToooo" sound.)

We also know two grey butcherbirds, Larry and Harry (Larry is on the site banner at the top). We met them years ago when we first met Vicky, because they were friends of hers and came to eat with her. But the last few months, they seem to have fallen out, and the two families are giving each other the cold shoulder. Hopefully they'll sort out the problem somehow. Their grown-up kids from past years are around and about in the thicker parts of the bush, and sometimes come up to say hello and take a piece of cheese away. Our problem with them is that it is very hard for us humans to tell them apart. There is a difference, but it takes eagle-eyed study. As a consequence, we tend to just keep on reusing the names Barry and Gary for all their kids. They know humans are stupid, and they don't seem to mind.

Then there are the many noisy miners. They really are hard to tell apart (well, mainly impossible), but we find that they tend to compensate by adopting behaviours that distinguish them to help us out. One drops near your foot so you get scared you'll tread on him, and another flutters stationary in front of your face. Most of them are not quite so extreme, though. They have a strange system that I'll write about another day.