Good morning, Mr. Magpie

I was only four or five years old the first time a magpie was pointed out to me.  Staring at those cobalt blue wings gleam in the Montana sunshine, all I could do was wonder at its beauty.   When I opened my pint sized mouth and commented in admiration, I was instantly shut down.  Magpies were "bad" birds.  (According to cattlemen, magpies are the scourge of the range preferable only to coyotes.  Because they will occasionally nibble a raw brand or preen the back of a cow so intently as to cause abrasions, most ranchers will shoot at every magpie they see.)  Feeling shamed to admire such a creature, I turned away from this bird who had instantly intrigued me and over the years nearly forgot about them.

Illustration by National Geographic
http://animals.nationalgeographic.com/animals/birding/black-billed-magpie/

Recently, when we moved to Bozeman, I once again fell in love with magpies.  In our new neighborhood, magpies are as plentiful as children which is saying a lot.  People here still grumble and call them "dirty," but I no longer care.  The magpies are my friends.  Superman and I both make a point to speak to them on a regular basis and Miss Busy loves to yell "pie-pie" as she tries to coax them in for a closer inspection.  We have also had many hours of entertainment watching through the living room window as they play, fight, steal, and gather material to build their rather messy nests.

This past month, I have begin noticing that the magpies seem to pay a lot more attention to my porch than to those of the neighbors.  They pluck drying garment from my rail, uproot small plants, leave perfect beak shaped bite marks in my mother-in-laws tongue, and rearrange the decorations on my table.  At first, I chalked it up to knowing that they were safe in my space, but then they started leaving gifts. 

One night about a week ago, I heard a clattering out on the porch.  Considering it was a rather stormy night, I shrugged my shoulders and blamed it on the wind tossing around my mop bucket.  The next morning, I found a resin skull that usually sits on the table thrown back against the rail in the opposite direct that the wind would have moved it.  In the space usually occupied by the skull were two small rocks confirming who the culprit(s) had been.  Then a few days later, I went out in the morning to find a perfect magpie feather sitting in front of my garden shoes. 

As a result of all these goings on, I have made it a point to learn more about magpies.  The more I learn, the more fascinating they become.  In this past week, I have learned: magpies have a long association with witches and the occult, are known to hold "wakes" for fallen comrades, and that a magpie is the only non-mammal who can recognize themselves in a mirror.   They are also resourceful, attracted to human company on their own terms, and take on long term projects. 

From a magickal standpoint, magpies often symbolize a person who could experience more if they would only trust their limited occultic knowledge and the possibility of learning and/or experiencing the supernatural in a less than conventional manner. Folk lore also teaches that witches can turn into magpies, that's one bit of knowledge I'd like to gain.  As with most magickal symbolism, there is also a warning.  Those who relate to magpies run the risk of all alternative learners and relying on incomplete knowledge.  The lesson I personally take from this is: use what knowledge you have, but continue to learn and grow.  Pretty timely advice. 

 



Feeling Crafty: Wands

So, I wanted to make a wand and ended up making three.  It was just so much fun once I got started.  All of the wood was collected dead fall or in the case of the final wand salvaged from pruning sites.   Each was hand sanded then treated with three coats of coconut oil. 

 

This first one is just plain and unembellished, but the grain of the wood is so pretty I can't bear to cover it up.  It is made from Box Elder wood which according to multiple sources has no magical properties, but I really find that hard to believe.   Knowing where these trees grow and how much they have to overcome to grow there, I feel that the magic of this wood is strength and perseverance.  The marbled coloring on the wood is created when the wood is somehow damaged, on a branch this size the damage was most likely done by one of our fierce prairie winds.   

In the case of this second wand, I added the very simple embellishment by wrapping the handle with a length of raw wool yarn.  With this wand, we are looking at another "non-magical"  wood: Cottonwood.  One source I found went as far to say that Cottonwood was "junk" wood.  As you can imagine, I was indignant.  Cottonwoods are by far the most common tree here on the prairie.  They grow in stands along the creek bottoms and are often hauntingly twisted in form from being pushed and molded by the wind.  To me, the magic of the Cottonwood is resilience and adaptability.   Cotton wood buds are also used to make a healing salve and the pollen is used in gypsy magic to bring rain.

 

Finally, my fancy wand.  This wand is made from pine and wrapped in a strip of torn coral cotton embellished with a mid-frequency river rock, a barred feather, and re-purposed wooden beads.  Pine is known magically for the qualities of protection, prosperity, and fertility.