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Serving Northern St. Louis County, Minnesota

Are magpies moving in?

Local population for this western species appears to be increasing

Marshall Helmberger
Posted 6/23/17

One of the more interesting members of the crow family can be found mostly in the western part of the Timberjay’s coverage area— and it’s one that I finally got the chance to photograph …

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Are magpies moving in?

Local population for this western species appears to be increasing

Posted

One of the more interesting members of the crow family can be found mostly in the western part of the Timberjay’s coverage area— and it’s one that I finally got the chance to photograph recently near Cook.

I don’t see black-billed magpies in the deep woods where I live. They’re predominantly birds of open country, leaving the unbroken forest to their cousins, the jays and ravens. But you don’t need to travel too far west from my home on the east side of the Lost Lake Swamp to hit magpie country up here. The old fields and farmsteads around Cook provide habitat for these spectacular birds and their population appears to be on the increase.

And that would probably come as a surprise to most ornithologists, who have typically discounted the possibility that magpies breed this far east. Black-billed magpies are a western species, most often associated with ranch country, where they are frequently seen sitting on fence posts in the semi-arid scrub. Most range maps show the species limited in Minnesota to the far northwestern corner, although the species typically ranges a bit further east in winter. But magpies appear to be thriving and, yes, breeding here in northeastern Minnesota as well. In St. Louis County, magpies are year-round residents in and around the farms of the Sax-Zim country as well as in the Littlefork River Valley around Cook and Orr. It may be part of a trend. I’ve read reports from other parts of the state that suggest magpie numbers may be on the increase elsewhere in Minnesota.

That’s fine by me, since I’ve always enjoyed watching these birds, with their bold black and white markings and extraordinarily long tail. In the right light, you’ll see plenty of iridescent greens and blues on their wing and tail feathers as well.

Earlier this month, however, was the first time that I had the opportunity to really hang out with a group of magpies, in this case a pair of adults and their five fledged young, who were making a real racket from an aspen and pine grove behind a farmhouse a couple miles east of Cook. The family requested anonymity to protect their magpies, who have been fixtures around the place for several years.

The young were hanging out in the thick cover, calling loudly at their parents to feed them. It’s the fate of bird parents everywhere. At least when the young are confined to the nest, the parents can get an occasional break. But once the young ones fledge, there’s no rest for the weary. Just begging young, with open mouths, chasing you around.

The young magpies already had most of their adult feathers in, although their tail feathers were only about half grown. The young showed little fear, while the adults were quite wary, confining themselves mostly to the tops of trees, interspersed with occasional forays into a nearby hay field, presumably for grasshoppers or other bugs to keep the begging from the young ones to a duller roar.

Like many member of the crow family, magpies typically mate for life, although they will occasionally take a second mate in the event that the other of the pair dies, or in the event that the couple decides to separate. According to one study from South Dakota, only about eight percent of magpies end up divorcing, which shows they are much more devoted spouses than we humans. I won’t mention that a similar study in Alberta found divorce rates as high as 63 percent, but then those are Canadian magpies, so, you know.

The magpie pairs both take part in the raising of the young, although as with humans, the females get stuck with most of the work. While both parents share the work of building their large, mound-like nest, the female does all the incubating of the eggs and brooding of the young, while the male feeds her on the nest and defends the territory. Both parents share the duties of feeding the young ones.

Magpies have adapted pretty well to the changes that occurred in the West following the arrival of Europeans. Originally, magpies followed the vast herds of bison, often sitting on the backs of the big beasts, where they would feed on ticks, flies, and other insect pests. They were also known to walk a lot on the ground, probably feeding on the insects disturbed by the hooves of the big grazers. They were first introduced to most white Americans by reports from the Lewis and Clark expedition, which noted that magpies were very bold and would sometimes enter tents and haul off food or other useful trinkets. Which sounds an awful lot like their cousins the gray jays.

When white Americans destroyed the bison, magpies began hanging out with cattle. Uninformed white ranchers assumed that the magpies must be doing damage, somehow, which prompted them to try to wipe out magpies as well. For years, many western states maintained bounties on magpies, even though there’s no evidence that they harm livestock in any way. It’s just that good old human impulse to destroy whatever we don’t understand.

Fortunately, most people these days would rather watch magpies than try to kill them. Which may be one reason they seem to be making a comeback.

Thanks to Julie Grahn, of rural Cook, for connecting me with the family with this magpie nest. It’s one of at least two nests she’s aware of in the area.