The element of surprise
It’s time to face my fear. I have come to despise this time of year; the first half of Spring. It’s not because of hay fever, Spring bringing on a yearly spending spree at the chemist stocking up on antihistamines to curb the frustration of uncontrollable sneezing and itchy eyes. And it’s not the indecisive Spring weather, brain-frying one day and icy the next. No, this is much more psychological; the element of surprise is crucial to it. It lurks in the trees or in the shadows, watching you with one eye, waiting for the moment when it can do the most damage to even the most hardened of people. Why can’t magpies leave people alone?
The first time I was subject to an attack was one Spring morning innocently making my way to class at the University of New England in Armidale in the year 2000. I was walking across an open area of grass surrounded by trees and university buildings when out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a dark object, very small and low to the ground making its way towards me like a steam train gaining momentum. It suddenly took flight and came within a hair’s breadth of my head, it’s wings cutting through the air making a swooshing sound, its beak snapping in anger for daring to come within 50 metres of it. It landed, turned around and prepared for the second attack. I bolted the rest of the way, trying to work out how I would get back to the college without crossing that ill-fated stretch of grass.
I was not attacked again until 2006 when I was innocently walking to my car. The bird suddenly swooped from behind, and came back for two more attacks until I finally scrambled into the front seat. Following this, the bird sat there staring at me, daring me to come out, before flying away. Then recently as I sat in Centennial Park eating lunch, I received a warning swoop from a magpie, prompting me to move away from the area. Since the attacks, I have become very wary of magpies. As Spring rolls around each year, I begin to hope trees in the vicinity of my route to the bus stop have not been used for a nest.
A 1997 study by the Research Centre for Injury Studies at Flinders University in Adelaide shows that of the 59 people in their research who were attacked by magpies, 37 or 62.7% were male. Of the total number of people, most were between the ages 15-29 years (16 people, or 27.1%). But what scares me most is that the most number of attacks were in the eye.
But according to a fact sheet by the NSW Government Department of Environment and Climate Change, the birds usually don’t make contact. They are just sending a warning. The department suggests a few ways of preventing an attack; according to the website, “Magpies are less likely to swoop if you look at them”. They suggest, among other things, that sewing a pair of eyes into the back of a hat is enough to deceive them.
They also suggest wearing a bicycle helmet, or even an ice cream container or cardboard box on your head, but I don’t think I will go to that extreme quite yet.
Image: Mick Richards, Source: abc.net.au
