This is Birdnode.

It's a cool morning in the ranch country of the west.

A black-billed magpie cuts a dash amidst the open habitat.

Flying parallel to the road with deliberate wingbeats, it flashes its black and white

wings like a semaphore.

It's tail fluttering behind.

The plumes longer than its body.

The march trees are still bare.

The magpies' raspy call is bold as brass.

Like its nest, a rough, bulky sphere of sticks nearly three feet across, with entrance

ports on the sides, sitting in plain view.

Black-billed magpies are omnivorous, like their close relations the jays and crows.

They'll even hitch a ride on a steer to pluck ticks from its hide, which goes some way

to explaining why magpies are such survivors.

The bison herds they once depended upon are greatly diminished.

And although they've had a long history of run-ins with ranchers, they've persisted.

And when the morning light catches one, perching just right.

Swings entail shimmer with iridescent blue and green.

For bird note, I'm Michael Stein.