For several weeks I watched from the kitchen window as a magpie, who I came to call Maggie, rested in our backyard. From a distance I could see that he had an injured leg, but whenever I attempted to get closer he would fly away.

One evening I arrived home from work to find Maggie squawking in the tree next to our garage. I was surprised to see him here, as in the past he had never come so close to the house. The winter weather had been relentless for days with constant wind and rain. Maggie was soaked to the bone, and his injured leg made it difficult for him to balance or perch on a branch. I put my belongings inside, but by the time I returned, he was gone. Later that evening, I found Maggie desperately trying to escape the clutches of a cat. I brought him inside, out of harm’s way where he could safely rest, warm and dry.  

In the morning I took Maggie to a wildlife rescue carer for evaluation. The carer explained that Maggie’s leg was attached by little more than a fragment of bone and would need to be amputated. He was in quite good condition and would certainly be able to survive, even with one leg. Maggie spent a fortnight in expert care, where he healed and regained strength. He was released onto my property. Within minutes of his release, another magpie swooped down to greet him and they flew off together. 

In the weeks following I didn’t see Maggie and wondered if he had survived. Unexpectedly, one morning he reappeared and I gave him some birdseed. And so began the 6am ritual. Each morning, Maggie would perch on the clothesline, patiently waiting for me to scatter his favourite seed.

Maggie visited every day for another four years. Over time, he became confident enough to approach me. He remained wary, but there was an unmistakable trust between us. Then, one morning he didn’t come. One day became a week, a week became a month, and eventually a year. Each morning I would wake, hoping to see him again. He never returned.   

It is difficult to grieve when you don’t know what has happened. There are no answers, only possibilities. I always hold a little hope that Maggie will return, or at the very least that he is thriving somewhere else, living the life he fought so hard to keep. I am grateful for the connection we shared. For a little while, our worlds overlapped, and I feel privileged to have been part of his.