The big black shape in the middle of the tree is the nest, and the small black shape perched to the right of the nest is the magpie.
There is a tree just outside my window, and in a crook made by the branches is a magpie's nest. The magpie has been flying back and forth to and from the nest, dragging twigs and brambles up through the tangle of branches to deposit carefully around her roost. I woke up this morning early (at 6:23, to be exact) and spent some time watching the bird. I was struck by how light she looked, how weightless. I know birds have hollow bones and so don't weigh very much, but this magpie hopped up and down branches with none of the apparent heaviness that I feel when I walk up stairs. Even the most graceful of animals usually translate their weight into their movements, but not this bird. She seemed to levitate, not flapping her wings or appearing to exert much energy, but moving effortlessly, fluidly, upwards. I have never watched so closely how a bird hops from branch to branch, and the magpie's ability to move so comfortably and freely was almost literally breathtaking. A bird's hopping is such a simple, everyday thing, but when I really stopped to watch, I came away with a whole new perspective of the action, a new appreciation for little things. I can't put it into words, but next time you have a chance, watch a bird as it hops up and down branches and maybe you will see what I mean.