When I was working as an environmental educator here in New Hampshire several years ago, I had the honor of teaching a nature photography class to a group of middle school students. We got along well enough, but as is typical with pre-teens, my charges voiced their opinions from time to time in regards to scheduled lessons. Several members of this particular class had Ukrainian heritage, which I enjoyed immensely, having eastern European roots myself. However, it is one thing when you are being chastised in your native tongue and another when complaints and goodness knows what else are being directed your way in a foreign language.
During one exceedingly challenging class where the students (and myself, to be honest) really did not want to continue with shutter speed semantics, I heard the words “buzzkill,” “fun-sucker” and a new one, “saroka” muttered from the mouths of my kiddos as I pressed through the lesson. Ignoring their pleas, I pulled out my teacher card (read: stern voice) and eventually got the kids to settle for another 15 minutes with the promise of several rounds of playful silliness as a reward to compensate their focus.
Even after our agreement, I continued to hear the word “soroka” uttered like a cuss from the back row where my trio of elder bilinguals were working. I remember thinking, is it worse that I know or worse that I don’t, and deciding that the latter would in fact be worst, I mustered up my courage and advanced to the back row where three sets of hazel eyes looked up to meet my own.
“What’s it mean?” I remember asking directly.
“What’s what mean?” sweet Clara asked, shifting her gaze to her companion, Nikolai who was suddenly very interested in his camera’s mechanics.
“The word I keep hearing you use, over and over today. What does it mean?”
Shifty gazes, the whole lot of them, with no utterances now.
“I won’t be upset,” I continued. “I just would like to know if it’s something I should be offended by and if so, perhaps there is something I could do in order to cease acting a ‘saroka’.”
Clara giggled. I stiffened.
“Are you going to tell me or not?” I said and, in retrospect, vaguely recall putting my hands on my hips.
Nikolai was the one who responded first.
“It’s not a swear,” he began. I raised an eyebrow.
“It means…” Clara started. “Well, it means… magpie.”
I stood dumbfounded. Apparently they took my silence as inspiration to continue.
“Magpies are really loud,” Nikolai explained. “They don’t ever shut up.”
“Neither do you,” said Clara before flushing a strong shade of vermillion and ducking her head towards the desk.
I pondered this for a moment. “You’re telling me that ‘saroka’ means magpie…and you’ve been referring to me as such because I talk a lot?”
All three faces were red at this point. I can’t recall Clara’s sister’s name but she looked mortified and kept jabbing her right elbow into her younger sibling’s ribs.
Nikolai answered hesitantly with a quiet “yes.”
“You call a person who talks too much or rattles on about one thing or another a сорока,” added Clara’s sister who was too old to be in this particular class, a saint for putting up with our juvenile antics, and whose name I unfortunately cannot recall.
I laughed; they all looked up. “The magpie is my absolute favorite bird!” I exclaimed, beaming at this new discovery. The eldest’s eyebrows raised a few millimeters. Her facial expression didn’t require a translation: she was clearly thinking I was not only obnoxious but insane as well.
For the remainder of that particular camp week I was Miss Coroka pronounced “Suh-row-kuh” and it has stuck ever since. So much so, that this past year (2018) I had my legal surname changed in the court system.
There will be additional information added here on this site in regards to my beloved magpies. You don’t take adopt a new name based on a winged creature if you’re not committed to jabbering on about them to friends, family and total strangers
If you have stories about these beautiful, clever, and often naughty corvids, do feel free to share. Brownie points if you have photos! In all honesty, if you have stories or photos involving lilac-breasted rollers, loons, goshawks, kites, or really any avian species, be in touch! Birds of a feather, right?