Young magpie: FOOD! FOOD! FOOD! FOOD! FOOD! FOOD!
Juvenile magpies: Feed me! ME! No, me! Feed me! Feed meeee!
Peewee (any age): Starving! Starving to death! Starving. To. Death. Starving, I am. TO DEATH! STAAAAAAAAAAAAAARVIIIIIIIIIING TOOOOOOOOOOOO DEEEEEEEEEEEEATH!
I wonder how H will cope with them while I'm away in Sydney. She will be taking the four magpies to her aviaries to join the magpies she has, and the peewee will be shoved in with doves. I expect to get back an extra magpie and a peewee who is either a nervous wreck or a new godfather.
"Make him an offer he can't refuse."
"coo. Coo. Whoodle-oot."