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The Magpie

BUT what are we to say of the magpie, the very Mercury of the feathered tribes,--light, active, eloquent, and the most accomplished thief in the world? He wears all his bad qualities in the face, is not the least of a hypocrite, and carries off his delinquencies with so impudent an air that no one can help admiring him, however they may object to his principles. Not being so plentiful in England as the jackdaw, and building his nest on the summits of lofty trees, he is not so readily procured as that bird. He is, however, so extremely amusing in his manners, that most persons would rather expend a little more money in procuring a healthy magpie than give a much less sum for the more phlegmatic jackdaw. His mischievous propensities are proverbial, and anybody who keeps one of these birds must be prepared for the commission of every imaginable delinquency. Nor must he blame the bird if it should happen to steal his watch-chain, peck a hole through his best boots, fill his best boots, fill his bed with sticks and pebbles, upset his ink-bottle, tear his papers, put his kid gloves into the dirtiest procurable puddle, or play practical jokes of a similar kind; he has only himself to thank for his carelessness in allowing it access to his domains. But if he makes up his mind that under such provoking circumstances the blame rests with himself, and that he will not be angry with the bird for following the dictates of its instinct, he will find his magpie a most entertaining companion, as full of odd tricks as a monkey, and as playful as a kitten. It requires very little attention, and provided that he be regularly fed, and furnished with a shelter in case of inclement weather, he will live to a venerable old age.

The fertility of invention that characterises a magpie's mind is perfectly astonishing, and the anecdotes that are related by every one who has watched his habits are as varied as they are wonderful. There is an amount of self-reliance in the creature which betrays itself in every gesture, as well as in the knowing twist of the head; and the triumphant "carrack" that accompanies a successful piece of mischief and the impudent flirt of the tail afford unmistakeable evidence of the bird's true character. None of the corvine birds should be kept in cages. The jackdaw perhaps suffers least from such captivity, and the magpie perhaps the most. It has such a restless nature, that it is ever on the move, and if confined in a cage, may be seen hopping from perch to floor, and from floor to perch, in miserable monotony of movement. Moreover, his beautiful tail always suffers severely from contact with the bars of the cage; and even if it is not rubbed down to a mere stump, as is frequently the case, it is always rendered ragged and disreputable at the tip.