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Running with the Magpies

I’m not much of a runner. I’m heavier these days. I start with 200 steps, counting as I run. Breathing in and out with the numbers, taking it slowly over the rocky, wet path. Stones, tree roots, furrows and puddles, 77-78-79-80. Keep going.

 I pass 200, and feel lighter. I’m thinking of magpies and lifting my feet to float and I keep going and it’s 500, then 800 and I’ve made 1000 and I’m still going and I feel like I’m flying. I’m doing it for the Magpies I tell myself. At 1500 I stop for breath and to take in the view as the rain keeps falling.

'Stay on the Path' the sign says and it seems like it’s telling those Pies 'Stay true. Keep going boys'. I take off again around the cliff path and I reckon I can make it to 2000. I count myself onto the headland, and look across–there are the magpies! An adult and a youngster, just picking at the grass. Hopping. Poking their beaks into the soft soil. Burdle-durdle-dup I say.

 Hip hop onto the path at Hell’s Gates and off the adult flies. Its home is over near Alexandra Headland where the waves are breaking big today. The little magpie hangs around then hops up close to a young girl and jumps from twig to twig on the pile of dry grey branches. It’s almost camouflaged in the grey colours of a youngster, not the full-fledged black and white of the mature bird.

 It joins the adult in shallow scrub and I can just make them out. It’s like I’m part of their family hanging on the edge observing. I’m a distant cousin. I’m also realising I’d almost walk off a cliff to watch them. Which is what I’m doing in my attempt to get a ticket for the Grand Final!


At Hell's Gates/Alexandra Headland
(c) Anna Sublet

This time the youngster leaves. The bold black and white adult member struts towards me. The Maggie takes off, low level, and flies straight towards me and lands by my feet. Props and stops. Pokes at the stones and moves off across the path with me following. Burdle-durdle-dup.
Coming straight at me!
(c) Anna Sublet

 We end up together in some kind of circle of rock and stone. Worship zone! Thoughts of my cathedral at the G. I’m calling it a ritual circle, some site of worship.

 The bird stops and looks straight at me. Turns its back to me. Looks back, just like my other sentinel magpies have done in the past.

 Takes off towards the ocean, wings wide and willing.

 I have run longer than I have run in ages, I’ve stood in a worship circle, I’ve communed and sung. And I think, after a few desperate days of trying, I have a grand final ticket. Go Pies!!! I’m flying home from the north to watch the battle of the birds at the MCG. The things we do to watch the magpies up close, and flying.

Taking its leave
(c) Anna Sublet

A version of this piece was published in Sunday Age, 1 September, 2019
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