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“Invisible magpies warbled in the plane trees. Softly, gently, never running out of melodic ideas, they perched among the leaves and spun out their endless tales.”
― Helen Garner, Joe Cinque's Consolation: A True Story of Death, Grief and the Law

“The room was a magpie-nest of picked-at knowledge, the lair of a tinkerer to whom the universe was one vast toyshop of intriguing side issues.”
― Barbara Hambly, Dragonsbane

“Ruffian magpies and crows squabbled shrilly in the swaying tree by my window. Then, unbeknownst to me, a tiny starling with its astral plumage came closer still and made its resonant point with greater subtlety.”
― Stewart Stafford

“From somewhere in the garden came the sound of a magpie singing, and a thousand days of childhood arrived with it. Jess glanced to her right and spotted the black-and-white bird perched atop the statue in the middle of the pond. There were magpies in England, too--- Jess had seen them often on the Heath--- but although they shared a name, they were different from their antipodean cousins: smaller, neater, prettier, and without the eerily sublime song. This magpie was looking directly at her. Jess tilted her head, watching the bird as he watched her. Suddenly, he spread his wings and flew away.
She crossed the turning circle toward the lawn. The grass was still damp with dew, even though the sun was rising fast, and cool shadows stretched toward the harbor. Jess reached the edge of the pond and followed the line of its curved rim until the elegant stone lady was directly before her, kneeling as she always had, arms folded above her head, face bowed to gaze at the goldfish and lilies.”
― Kate Morton, Homecoming

“Time's Magpies by Stewart Stafford

Time’s magpies swoop to taunt and rob,
And pluck out hair and gums carefree.
Opportunity and energy drained by mob,
As we duel pitiless reality.

The cat’s jowls swelled in uproar,
His gut sags and snarls with pain.
Feathery barbs of a matador,
Feline fleeing to copse again.

A younger cat enters the fight,
Ousting the aged tom.
Crown prince routs thieving flight,
A proud lion of dawn's sun.

© Stewart Stafford, 2023. All rights reserved.”
― Stewart Stafford

“Suburbia Knocks by Stewart Stafford

Covert dawn's surreptitious light,
A magpie sentry's warning song,
Swooping, scanning silent streets,
Cackling danger all night long.

Metallic cross of crucified clothes,
A choir of colours in the breeze,
Waterboarded by lashing rain,
Made them suffer incrementally.

One knock for no, two knocks for yes,
One and a half for uncertainty,
Three knocks for drinks and company,
The rite of suburban courtesy.

37 years ago, down at number 37,
Came the first and last royal visit,
Dizzying anticipation from first light,
Fading fairytale in a curtsying gibbet.

© Stewart Stafford, 2023. All rights reserved.”
― Stewart Stafford

“Magpies love to hear words which they can speak; and not only do they learn them, but they enjoy it; and as they repeat them over to themselves with the greatest care and attention, make no secret of the interest they feel. It is a well-known fact, that a magpie has died before now, when it has found itself mastered by a difficult word that it could not pronounce. Their memory, however, will fail them if they do not from time to time hear the same word repeated; and while they are trying to recollect it, they will show the most extravagant joy, if they happen to hear it.

Natural History Book X, chapter lix”
― Pliny the Elder, [Natural History: Bks.VIII-XI v. 3] (By: Pliny The Elder) [published: December, 1940]