[mou] A starling justice?

[Thomas Maiello]

I am apparently a conditional birder as I am been unappreciative of the 
European Starling (Sturnus vulgaris - how appropriate a scientific 
name).  When I lived in Oklahoma the "vulgari" would empty out nest 
houses of other birds' active nests and leave white stains all over the 
outside of nest boxes or cavities they had stolen from some seemingly 
more desirable bird.  (Generally, at least for me, the desirable ones 
were those I had to go looking for rather than those, such as Starlings, 
that so abundantly volunteered to dance before me everyday at my 
feeders.)  Nor are their nesting habits within my cleanliness range - 
and I am a single guy.  (Imagine if I picked up their habits in my home 
- yuk!) Not only do they aggressively chase away any other bird at my 
feeders, they even gang up to bully their way.  (Pssst - I do appreciate 
their Minnesota winter plumage, but let's keep that between us.)  This 
overall behavior has left me a bit numb and even resentful when it comes 
to watching or appreciating the species.  By the way, credit is given 
one Eugene Scheifflin, an amateur ornithologist and Shakespeare fan for 
introducing this delight to us.  He wanted to bring all the birds listed 
in Shakespeare's plays to North America, so he reportedly transported 
80-100 European Starlings to Central Park in New York City in 1890 and 
released them.  Today there are an estimated 200 million starlings in 
America and it seems most at least visit the feeder in my front yard.  I 
offer this feeder in sacrifice to keep the feeders outside my office 
window for the most part Starling (and Grackle) scarce.

Why am I telling you something you already may know?  I got an insight 
to how the saying "What goes around, comes around" might be taught 
through observations of Starlings.  I was watching my front yard feeder 
and noticed purposeful and intense movement in the relatively high grass 
in my yard.  It was an adult Starling quickly clambering through the 
grass apparently desperate searching for food.  It was the apparent 
desperation that caught my eye.  In its almost frenzied movement it 
would  disappear and reappear in the grass. It was by chance, after a 
few moments of watching, that I noticed the bird was being pursued by 
another bird on the ground walking a few inches behind it and keeping 
low.  It was an almost fully grown offspring of the parent Starling - 
plain with grayish-brown head blending to black wings without 
significant spotting and a pointy bill with yellow portions - obviously 
not a young cowbird.  This gaping child was aggressively pursuing its 
parent and, to my surprise, would actually peck and snap at the parents 
feathers or body in an apparent and almost constant attempt to get its 
attention.  Meanwhile the adult was now in a frenzied search for food as 
fast as I have ever seen a bird search.  Every 3-4 seconds the youngster 
would bolt forward and stab at the adult - I couldn't be sure if it was 
pecking the adult's body or just trying to grab its feathers.  As the 
adult picked up its intensity to search for food, the youngster picked 
up its intensity to get its attention.  Every 15-20 seconds the adult 
would find some form of food and turn and place it in the youngster's 
gaping mouth, only to be snapped at again the second the morsel had 
reached the youngster's gullet.  I watched this behavior with 
fascination for almost 15 minutes.  My guess is that the parent was 
going to sleep well that night out of pure exhaustion - if the youngster 
would leave it alone long enough.

I don't think I have ever really watched a Starling for that long or 
seen such an aggressive and physical pursuit and interplay with a hungry 
fledgling.  At first I actually felt a little sorry for the adult and a 
little hostility for the offspring.  Then I realized that for all my 
judgments of Starlings. . . I felt this unexpected appreciation for the 
birds.  I will ponder the lessons that nature gives me.  As for "What 
goes around, comes around" - Ow! - my brain hurts.

Thomas Maiello
Spring Lake Park