Saying goodbye to the magpie man

When I heard this week that legendary wildlife biologist Rick Sinnott had quietly retired (I picture him riding off into the sunset, even though it's Alaska in the summer and there is no sunset), my first reaction was to be a bit sad to see him go.

The sadness was quickly replaced, however, by overwhelming relief: Thank God I moved out of my old house.

I used to live downtown in a house that I loved but that had one terrible flaw: Each summer, magpies came to nest in the backyard. I thought I knew how territorial an animal could be, but that was before I'd encountered magpies with hatchlings. One evening, after being dive-bombed by angry magpie parents as I tried frantically to get into my back door, and then ending up trapped inside the house as the birds outside followed me from window to window, screaming to keep me from coming back and threatening their babies, I called the Department of Fish and Game -- and they sent me to Rick Sinnott.

Sinnott actually wasn't able to be as helpful as he might have liked (as he explained to me over the course of several summers, there's not much you can do about magpies besides move the nest -- and that just either makes them madder or turns them into someone else's problem), but he gave me what I needed most -- a sense of validation. If my magpie problem was serious enough to merit Sinnott's attention -- and serious enough that he couldn't solve it -- I knew I wasn't overreacting. I chronicled our most memorable conversation in a June 17, 2009 post on my personal blog:

So it was that I found myself on the phone this morning with wildlife biologist and local hero Rick Sinnott. I introduced myself by mentioning that he'd come to my house last summer to try to help me with a magpie problem.

"I remember," he said. "Are they hitting you again?"

...I filled him in on the details and crossed my fingers, hoping he had, in the past year, toiled away in his secret laboratory and invented some kind of magical magpie repellent technique. Maybe just a spray or something ... he told me he did have one suggestion, but I had to promise not to laugh.

"Do you have a wide-brimmed hat?" he asked.

Because, you see, his concern is that a rabid disgusting adult magpie with murder in its overprotective heart is going to swoop down and peck me in the eye. And apparently, wearing a wide-brimmed hat will help protect me from this.

"I mean, I've had them land on my shoulders and peck at my head," he said.

I told him I've been using an umbrella. He said that should work too.

Thanks for all your years of service, Rick -- and thanks for helping us urban Alaskans learn to live with our four-legged, furry, feathered and flying neighbors. Even when they want to peck our eyes out.

Contact Maia Nolan at maia(at)alaskadispatch.com.