Whispers Between Wings

A story about a magpie, a girl, and the wings that set them both free.

I wasn’t planning on sharing this. It’s deeply personal. Tender. And honestly, probably one of the most unexpected things I’ve ever done. But here I am choosing to speak from my heart, and share a moment that cracked something open in me in the most unexpected way.

As part of my mediumship development journey, I’ve been deepening into the sacred, spiritual, and unseen aspects of life. And I’ve said from the beginning if I’m going to do this, I’m going to do it all the way. No more hiding.

A couple of months ago, I found a magpie.

I’d seen him twice before struggling to fly down my driveway. I remember thinking something wasn’t quite right, but he was still surrounded by his little magpie family, so I trusted he was being looked after.

Then one evening, I felt called to take a walk after dinner. I headed down the driveway, and there he was lying peacefully under the tree. He was freshly passed still soft, still warm. And I just knew. This wasn’t random. This was sacred. A little moment of magic, divinely timed.

As part of the IMDC mediumship container I had just joined. They talked about how we should create an alter, a space that holds energy and meaning, filled with items that represent our spiritual connection. And we were encouraged, if we ever took something from nature, to give something back. So that night, I wrapped his body gently and offered a lock of my hair to the earth in exchange.

I’d never done anything like this before. But I felt a deep inner knowing
I had to preserve his wings.

Not because of how they looked but because of what they represented.
Even though he couldn’t fly in this world, I was going to help him take flight in the next.

So I messaged Erin, one of my spiritual mentors and teachers, and she gave me some gentle guidance -freeze him to preserve the body and prevent odour.
And so into the freezer he went.

Yes, my husband and daughter raised their eyebrows and hubby was like” what the fuck are you putting in the freezer?’ but they’ve grown used to the weird, wild, and wonderful things I do.

So with a sideways glance they looked at each other as if to say “here she goes again” and just let me carry on to be me.

Weeks passed. I kept putting it off. The sacred act of processing his wings.

But the feeling never left. The magpies kept visiting. Often in threes warbling in my garden, appearing on fences, flying past during moments of reflection. There was even a strange sense of knowing: that his little family knew he was still with me in my freezer.

Then one morning, I drove past three magpies on the road, and I just knew today was the day.

Everyone was out. I had the house to myself. No one to witness. No one to judge. Just me, the magpie, and the magic of this moment.

I saged the tools. I saged the body. I lit a candle. And I sat with him, truly sat.

I placed my hands over his wings. I looked over his whole body. And something stirred in me that I hadn’t expected.

As I began to remove his wings, I noticed something.

The right wing was pristine full-feathered, striking, strong.
But the left? The feathers were shorter. Frayed. Imperfect. The talon on that side was smaller, less defined. The wing looked slightly torn, and I even cut it a little off-centre, making it more delicate to preserve.

Perfectly Imperfect

When you see only the pieces, the imperfections stand out. But when you step back and see the whole being, its all just part of the beauty.

And yet… when he was alive, I never saw those flaws.

Because when he sang, when he flew, when he was whole he was magnificent.

That moment brought me to tears. Still does as I write this, I never saw his imperfections I just saw him in all his magnificence.

Because it mirrored how I sometimes see myself.

How I’ve picked myself apart. Judged the pieces. Critiqued the things that feel broken, messy, or not quite right. But the truth is those parts are still part of me as a whole.

They don’t make me any less.

They make me, well me.

Emotions rose. Tears flowed.
Not from discomfort, but because something real was unfolding.
This ceremony was never just about the magpie it was about me.

The little spiritual girl inside she came alive in this moment and for the first time in a long time, I welcomed her home.

I’m not hiding her anymore.

Originally, I only planned to preserve his wings.
But the more I sat with him, the more I kept being drawn to his talons.

It was as if they were calling to me.

So I did some more research, and carefully removed them too. I placed them into a small box filled with borax and carefully placed an amethyst crystals in each claw to keep them open while they dried. I was drawn to use amethyst for its protection, connection, and vision. It just felt right in the moment.

Once dried I wanted to wrap the talons one in natural fibres, the other in copper wire. One grounded, one amplified. A balance of energies. And one was going to be bedazzled (lets face it that little girl in me loves shiny things) I adorned it with a crystals and some beads from a broken bracelet my sister gave me, adding a layer of feminine connection and intention. The right one is left simple, raw, and earthy. The left a beautiful bejeweled creation. Together they represent the left and the right, the masculine and the feminine. A sacred polarity. A remembering.

They now sit on my altar, taking centre stage. Not as ornaments, but as anchors. They are part of a living, breathing sacred space that changes and evolves depending on what I’m journeying through. At the moment, the altar holds what I feel most attuned to, my Reiki guides, the energy of Mother Earth, and a gift from the fairies at the bottom of my garden. It’s a space woven with devotion, nature, spirit, and the magic I’m learning to trust.

Since preserving the wings and adding them to my altar, magpies seem to appear often now. Especially in threes.

The number 3 carries its own magic: body, mind, spirit. Past, present, future. Maiden, mother, crone. In many traditions, the power of three holds harmony, wisdom, and wholeness.
I often see these three magpies at the close of my workdays calling as if to say, "Well done." I’ve seen three of them in a vision, branch-hopping. And then a few days later, the very same tree held three real ones down my driveway. The other day, I was finishing a Reiki session at a client’s home. I hadn’t noticed it at the start, but as I closed the session and gave thanks to my guides and the divine, I looked over to see a handmade quilt hanging beside me embroidered with three magpies.

This ceremony wasn’t dark. It wasn’t gruesome. It was reverent. It was tender. It was healing.

It was about honour. About love. And about learning to see the whole.

More than anything, it was about me. Learning to honour and love myself as a whole.

Something inside has shifted. It’s not grief. Not loss. It’s acceptance.

Acceptance of the girl I’ve always been. The one I kept so well hidden. The one I told was too weird. Too spiritual. Too sensitive. Too much.

The girl who talks to the birds. The one who listens to the wind through the trees. The one who sees beyond the veil. The one who believes in magic.

This ceremony gave me permission to let her be seen. And in doing so, I found more of myself.

So I share this now, not to be shocking, but to be real. Because I do love this kind of sacred work. The rituals. The containers. The ceremonies. This is where I come alive.

Let yourself live your truth. Let yourself follow the nudges that speak to your soul. Even if no one else understands them.

This is where the magic lives. And for me, this is just the beginning. As I let my wings of wisdom take flight.

Jane xx