For the past couple of months, a pair of parent magpies (Maria Callas and Fat Aristotle) have been visiting our yard and turning us into their human slaves to provide them with food to feed their hungry babies. A few days ago, they started bringing their babies into the yard for a visit and to teach them how to eat bugs off the rose bush. They are very cute and funny and bossy and we like them a lot. Then, today, one of the baby magpies decided to just lie down in the dirt by a wall and pretend to be dead. I was about to burst into tears on the back deck (while also mentally planning a tastefully moving funeral with guests and finger food), when Fat Aristotle hopped over, pecked it on the head, and the naughty little bird jumped up and went back to squeeching for food. (Squeeching is the technical expression for the annoying noise made by baby magpies who are hungry.)
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