My own story is set some 22 years ago. I was a 13 year old by riding my bike to school when i was walloped in the side of my head by what I initially though was a newspaper. Looking about to see who was throwing things at me, I was struck again with such force that I fell off my bike. Looking about to see my tormenter, I raised my hand my head I was startled to see it come back tinged in blood – my blood. Fear was replacing my confusion and I saw a back shape streaking again to me. I held my hands up to shield my head while at the same time crawling away from my ‘attacker’. I saw another passer-by and croaked out “Help me”. The passer by just looked at me blankly and covering their own tent they ran away and left me to my fate. By now my head had cleared enough that I was a bit more aware and I saw a malevolent magpie banking around for what I realised was another swoop. I scrambled further along the bike path dragging my bike behind me and eventually got out of range. Once the attacks ended I got back on my bike and pedalled to the relative safety of my best friends house. His mother administered Betadine onto each of the tiny pockmarks that ran down the side of my head, just below the dubious protection afforded by my helmet. I have never been a fan of magpies and even less after this rather humbling experience.
Martin Sawtell
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