NATURE COLUMN: Bill Cawley
STARLINGS (Sturnus vulgaris) were deliberately introduced to the United States from the UK.
The thinking of Eugene Schieffelin, eccentric and Shakespearean enthusiast, was that any bird commendable of inclusion in the Bard’s works deserved to be settled in North America.
And so, executing this doubtful biological notion — the bird gets a brief mention in Act I of Henry IV, Part I — he released about 60 of them in Central Park in New York.
About 35 pairs of starlings were released on the West Coast around the same time. The introduction of the bird into the States turned out to be an appalling success.
If the two populations ever met, there was no commemorative event to mark this meeting although it has had repercussions for the North American natural world.
The European starling population (estimated at 200 million) now inhabits all of the contiguous United States, a good part of Canada and most of Mexico.
It has become a major pest to farmers and landowners. Starlings displace native bird species, and their dense flocks have indiscriminate tastes; they devour insects and their larvae, worms, grains, fruits and even livestock feed.
But what of the starling nearer home? I must have counted about 60 of these vagabonds as they lined roof tops in Grove Street, Leek.
They are a noticeable sign of the coming of colder and darker times.
During the winter months, large numbers of starlings visit Britain from the continent, seeking out the relative warmth of the climate.
As dusk arrives, the starlings set off for their communal roost in one of the most staggering natural spectacles of all known as mumurations.
The starling is also very versatile and has the power of mimicry, even in the depths of wartime this skill was appreciated.
Major Buxton of Great Yarmouth in a letter to the Times of January 1941 remarked: “At Arundel Castle I heard from the front door a green sandpiper, then a green plover and finally a jackdaw.
“There was nothing odd about the jackdaw in Sussex, but it is not the right place for the green plover, still less the green sandpiper.”
The notes were repeated and I walked around the corner and saw the performer sitting on a tree constantly repeating its turn.
A year or two ago a starling used to sit on top of the sail of a derelict windmill far removed from any human habitation
He confined his mimicry strictly for the farmyard and he could produce the calls of various poultry and tame geese to a nicety
More modern day starlings have been known to mimic mobile phones, ambulance sirens and even the sound of the beeping of a reversing truck.
On a more cultural higher plain Mozart taught his pet starling to whistle part of the Allegretto from his G Major Piano concerto.