As you have probably discerned by now, Sydney is a big bird-lover. Interestingly, though, he hasn’t been a big fan of starlings, given that they do a lot to drive other birds away. So it really seemed just too funny that a baby starling adopted our family earlier this month.
Ralph, as we called him, landed on Nathaniel’s knee and shoulder in the yard one afternoon (making Nathaniel smile and then start to cry) and immediately hopped around all of us, making that annoying cheeping sound that is the universal signal for “I’m hungry and I’m going to continue making this atrocious sound until you feed me.” So, Sydney dug up earthworms all over his garden. We graduated to canned cat food (yes, there is a cosmic joke in there somewhere), delivered via tweezers from 6am to 8pm each day for roughly a week. The feedings took place on the deck until we realized that impatient Ralph was all too ready to simply fly in the patio door if given a chance (as it was, our cats watched every feeding with great interest from just behind the patio door).
The day I left for England, however, Ralph failed to appear, and Sydney hasn’t seen him since, but we took several pictures of this bold little bird who would swoop down onto our heads and shoulders (quite ticklish, that) and who didn’t even mind if we pet him. We’re not likely to get such an invasion of the wild in the future.
Erin
Alan Schmierer
We’re not big fans of starlings here. You probably don’t want to know how we handle that problem in the barn. However, as a bird watcher and literature professor do you know how starlings came to be in North America? It’s all because of some crazy Shakespeare enthusiasts. 🙂
Many a starling has met its end at my hands! I think I might dislike them even more than cowbirds. Starlings in North America is one of the more perverse of the Bard’s legacies. But it’s hard to feel the same way about a baby that launches itself onto your shoulder and begs for food.