Poor Martha, she wished that she knew who she was. Why were people so afraid of her? Whenever she flew up to say hello, the other animals would rush and scurry away.
The earliest memories that Martha could remember was waking up one morning all cold and stiff. She was small and lonely and wondered why. Where were the others of her kind? She tried to find them but could not even fly, she had to walk and that was a bit of a chore as she had a sore leg.
Her plumage was grey and dirty white. She looked an awful fright. She saw some parrots larking about and went up to them and gave a big shout, “Hello. Do you know who I am? I would like to find my family. Can you help me?”
Turning towards her the parrots all saw a small little bird with a very long beak. Her plumage was grey and dirty white but they saw a fiend and took to flight.
This had been how Martha remembered her life. Nothing had changed from that day to this except her feathers, they had changed you see. Now her plumage was bright white and black. She was bigger and stronger, quite sleek yet fat.
As Martha looked about for some grubs she spied a group of birds that looked like she did. Oh, they were smaller she would give them that, but oh look at their feathers, black and white just like hers. She hurried over and called out to them. “Hello. Are you my family, my kith and kin? I have been looking all over. Where have you been?”
The small black and white birds were Peewees and as Martha approached they saw with a fright that one of their enemies had them in sight. Up went the shout, all around and about. “Look out. Here comes a Magpie. We need to get out.”
As Martha heard this she stopped in her tracks and landed on the ground where she stood quite still. That is what she was. That was why people around these parts feared her so. She was Martha Magpie, know she knew.
From that day on she was determined to find, other members of the Magpie kind. She would find them and speak to them and bring them around to treating the other folk with kindness. Martha did not want any other orphans to fall out of a nest and not know who they were, with no place to rest. From here on out no-one would ever have to do what Martha had done to find out who she was.
Never again she said to herself. Martha who? I’m Martha Magpie the good. That’s who.
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