... you'd better go in disguise, preferably with a bucket on your head. And leave it there for the next month or two.
Because for about a week now, and again this morning, I have been hearing a lot of the audible golden syrup that is the call of the magpie, both from out in the street and down in the bushland lite that is my back yard. Apparently ThirdCat's mister got swooped some time ago already, though I can't now find the place where she tells that story.
I can remember my cousins in the country riding their bikes down the hill to the township to get to school, and every magpie nesting season they'd have to steer with one hand and hold their school cases over their heads with the other. They got very good at it.