Notes from a different lake: The magpie and the eclipse

In a world that is so confusing, cruel at times, too fast to keep up with, and literally on fire, connecting with nature seems almost impossible. And yet, for a few precious moments, that is exactly what millions of people did across the world, together or in solitude. One brief moment as the moon covered the sun and turned day into night, or at least twilight. But for a few of us, it wasn’t the only moment of connectedness – a little bird made sure of that!

We ventured in the heat to the Heath, spread a couple of blankets under a beech and oak that combined to provide blessed shady relief. We were on a small hill, near a couple of ponds, facing west, ready for the spectacular astronomical event. A few others were there – an artist sketching the yellowed grasses, a couple of women in lawn chairs, a few others scattered in the tall grass, avoiding the shade for some reason.

A small, very thin Eurasian Magpie was wandering around, poking at the dried ground and withered grass, looking for something, anything to eat. His mother stood near by and then flew off – too many people for her liking, I guess. The little one didn’t seem to mind, he was too young to have learned the dangers people can pose. He wandered up to the women, interested in their picnic basket. They shooed him away. He tried again. They shooed again. He was a stubborn thing but after a few more attempts to share their picnic, he eventually gave up and wandered towards us. He had no idea how in luck he was!

We were on our blankets, a picnic spread out – strawberries, grapes, bagels, hummus, nibbles and some water and lemonade (the juice not soda). Krie tossed him a grape, I chucked a strawberry. He pecked at the grape and took a big chunk. He came closer as if to ask, ‘Anything more in there?’ I offered a piece of bagel. He grabbed it from my fingers, set it down on the ground and ate a few bits. He then took it to a small hole in the ground and covered it with dead leaves.

I may have taken a lot of photos. But he was so sweet and cute!

I mean, c'mon! That face!!

He popped back to us, then wandered onto our blanket, having a look at what was on offer. He found the strawberries and pecked at one. Then he discovered my lemonade. He took a sip, looked a bit puzzled, then drank some more. Who knew magpies liked lemonade? Guess he knew it wasn’t just any lemonade, it was M&S lemonade...

I poured some water into a plastic box lid, I’m not an expert but somehow lemonade didn’t seem to be the best drink for him. He drank some water, scooping it up in his big beak. At the risk of anthropomorphising, the little guy just seemed so relaxed, chuffed with the selection of food that wasn’t dried up bits of grass.

OK, OK. I took lots of photos!

I am not apologising for the number of photos!

In the meantime, another group of people had come along and sat near us. They had a small dog. You know where this is going… Suddenly, the dog lunged at the little magpie, who flew up in a panic onto a beech branch. The dog found the hidden bagel and ate up his unexpected treat. He was called back, and the magpie eventually flew down to try his luck with a couple further away. The man was so entranced with this bird – I watched as he lay down on his stomach to feed and observe his new feathered friend. Connecting with nature. I loved this moment for him. And then the dog, yep, another lunge and the bird was away again.

We didn’t see the magpie again – two close shaves was enough for him. All we could do was hope he had rejoined his mother. The dog owners apologised and put their dog on the lead, tying him to a chair. I didn’t blame the dog, but was sad to have our little bonding (well at least for us) broken. We left the bits of fruit for the magpie, or for any of the wildlife, to enjoy once the meddlesome humans had left for the day.

Normally, I wouldn’t feed the wildlife, but with the land so dry, water and food so scarce, there is no other choice. It’s a tiny helping hand. Of course, the bigger helping hand would be to reverse our dependence on fossil fuels, AI data centres and everything else that is sucking the plantet dry and setting her alight, and to do whatever we can to decelerate climate hotting.

Mother Nature is sending us dire warnings, but she still gave us a show – a beautiful phenomenon that we don’t get to see much (and possibly don’t deserve). And this was the reason why so many came out to the Heath. By the time our magpie friend was scared off for the last time, the small hill had filled up with people, under the shade, in the tall grass, on the bare patches, everywhere.

As we sat on the hill, under our beech tree, with a gentle breeze blowing (making the 32 degree C. temperature more than tolerable), we watched as the moon covered the sun almost completely. There was a happy atmosphere – people eating, drinking, chatting and watching the eclipse. There were pinhole boxes, colanders, bits of white paper and of course, solar eclipse glasses.

The glasses were difficult to come by in London, supply being way stripped by demand. But Krie had managed to get a few pairs – the ‘weird dude’ at a little shop told her more were coming in, apparently via friends who had flown to France to buy God knows how many. There’s a story in there, but for another time.

Those glasses were shared with our tree neighbours, three pairs enabling ten-plus people to see the eclipse. The kiddo and I helped a some people get a few eclipse photos. We had a two-person system involving eclipse glasses, mobile phones, focusing and snapping – basically an eclipse photo production line, safely done of course.

The trees, too, showed off – our beech became a canvas of crescent suns, shining through the spaces of the hanging branches and leaves. The eclipse was everywhere, in the sky, the lighting across the grass and hills, the trees, in pinhole boxes, shining through colanders on white paper. The eclipse brought people together, connecting with nature and the heavens and with each other, even if only briefly.

A little magpie, Helios and Selene gave us magical moments but these were also SOS messages from Gaia. A wee bird, hungry, scraggly, shooed away by two women who couldn’t, wouldn’t understand that he needed their help. The man who connected for a moment, will he take that with him? Will it be enough for him to do something, however small? The scraggly magpie was symbolic of our planet that is dying because we are killing her. Faster than ever. We can reverse the damage, but only if we come together, and not just for a moment to observe an astronomical event, but for longer, to unite against those who seek to ravage Mother Nature of her last resources for short term monetary gain. Because in the future, the eclipses will continue to come and go, but we humans and our feathered friends may not be around to enjoy the spectacle.