The two girls popped out through the cat flap and quietly ensconced themselves at vantage points where there were small gaps in the hedge and they could watch the neighbour’s lawn. There were three magpies hopping about and diving their beaks into the turf, dislodging moss and uncovering morsels to eat. After some squawking one flew off and almost immediately, two more appeared.

The cats were mesmerised by the activities, especially when a couple of grey squirrels appeared and made sudden rushes at the Magpies, causing flapping and leaping in the air whilst shouting their displeasure at the intrusion.


Suddenly a beaky black and white face popped through the twigs next to the cats.

“Squawk, are you felines enjoying yourselves?”

Mrs Ribby retreated out of beak stabbing range and almost squashed Ruby who was behind her.

“Macow, I’m so sorry,” she said, “we were just enjoying the antics of these birdies and how they tease the grey squirrels.”

“Meup, Mewp,” said Ruby, “how come we can understand what this large intimidating birdie is saying?”

The Magpie put its head on one side and fixed Ruby with a beady eye. “What you perhaps don’t know, Pussycat is that us Corvids have a wealth of evolutionary characteristics which set us apart from other intelligent animals. I am using a dialect of our Magpie language, passed down through the ages which we believe most felines should understand.”

Mrs Ribby stepped back in amazement.

Ruby collected her thoughts first. “We have always admired you Magpie people and are constantly amazed at your energy and inventiveness.”

“These are my children,” replied the Magpie, “and once they have used up some of their surplus energy, I shall call them over to meet you.Perhaps you would like the opportunity to invite the older members of your Ginger Nuts clan to come and join you.”

Mrs Ribby readily agreed and sent Ruby back to the house to find the others.


Tigtoes appeared first and squeezed in between Ribby and Ruby.

The Bullpuss settled in just behind them.

The Magpie brought the youngsters over.

The first one hopped close and said, “there are four Pussycats now, Mother!”

“Correct,” squawked the Mother. “This is Madeleine whom we refer to as Maddy, since she can be as daft as a birch brush!” 

Tabitha Twitchit was the next cat to appear and squeezed in next to The Bullpuss.

Another young Magpie hopped over, “there are five Pussycats now Mother!”

“This is Maggie, whose full name is Margaret. We can see her becoming a spokesmagpie when she grows up next year.”


Mungojerrie, the tallest of felines, made himself comfortable next to Tabitha.

The third young Magpie walked over, “there are six Pussycats now Mother!”

“And there’s no need to worry, Clack,” said the parent, “these felines just wish to become acquainted. By the way, this fellow’s full name is Clacketty Clack!”

The old furry Mopprag eased her way through one of the few remaining gaps and settled near to Mrs Ribby. “This is exciting,” she whispered, “I’ve always wanted to understand more about Magpies.”

The fourth young Magpie pushed his way between his siblings, “now there are seven Pussycats, Mother!”

“This is Pica,” his Mother explained, “and if anyone is familiar with Latin nomenclature for the animal kingdom, you’ll know why.”

“Brrrrp,” whispered The Bullpuss, “I always said these Magpies get above themselves!”

The last Ginger Nut, but by no means least, was the wise, elderly Simpkin, known as Squimps to his friends. He pushed his face between his furry companions and gazed out at the feathered display.

The four young Magpies glanced at each other, then together squawked, “now there are more than seven, Mother!”

“Exactly,” she replied, “and as you get older these groups larger than seven will be easier to evaluate. So here we have eight Pussycats, whose acquaintance we are delighted to make.”