Magpies
I read about a family adopted by a magpie, as magpies do. The magpie has learned to say the name of the family dog, and when the family cat begins to stalk that magpie, it calls the dog. Problem solved! Our farm cat hated the magpies who owned us, not least, I thought, because the magpies seemed to enjoy trolling it. And I've heard magpies doing incredible mimicry of other animals, so I have no problems believing this story of the magpie and the dog.
My interest is in what the magpie is actually thinking and doing. When we see the magpie trolling the cat, deliberately flying down to the ground and feigning ignorance of the cat's slow stalking, letting it getting closer, and then calling the dog, we are anthropomorphising. We are projecting upon the magpie what we might do. We don't really know what the magpie, or the cat, are thinking. It seems obvious, but that's our assumption.
As I seek to understand what was happening as I lived life as an undiagnosed autistic person, and as I try to understand what is going on since the realisation that I am somewhere in the ASD spectrum, I feel like the magpie. Because not only do we not understand the magpie, but I, the magpie, do not understand you. Magpies can only see us through magpie eyes, perhaps as a very odd, even deficient, sort of magpie. Maybe magpies have their own "Linnaean system" for describing species, but if they do, they will still have the same limitations upon their observations and deliberations of us as we have in understanding them.
In front of me, someone said that autistic people have absolutely no idea about emotions. The other person agreed, with emphasis. At one level, this little magpie agrees; I often have no idea what other people are on about. I break my partner's heart.
But… I often watch this strange other species in the grip of emotions, even out of control, lashing out, ignoring obvious mitigating strategies—why!? And I note that I, this same little magpie, sit through church, and other places, brimming over with emotion, weeping, and manage that without burdening the people around me. I am different, and I think other people have as little idea about how I tick as I have about what makes them tick. But I do emotions all the time—life (and emotions) “full to the brim” as Andrew Dutney1 might say. We are magpies to each other, often close, admiring, and our appreciative. But our brains work differently, and I'm not at all sure we understand how much.
Andrea (May 2026)
1. https://ucappep.org/life-to-the-brim-song/
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