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Unpretentious Beauties.

would fare well with them if they behaved amiss.

Many people who fancy that they know the starling, have no idea of its beauty. At a distance it appears black, but when seen near, reveals the most exquisite coat of shifting colours-green, purple, copper, which glance off the feathers with a lustre which is almost metallic. Unlike pretentious beauties, the starling will bear examination. It does not care to show off; but the closer you look, the more you will find to admire. The plumage of the adult alone, however, is thus beautiful; the young starling, even when fullsized, in the autumn of its first year, is of a dingy, unpromising brown-so unlike its parent as to have been taken by some naturalists as another variety of the same bird. Indeed, it has been drawn and described as the brown starling, and has been called the "solitary thrush."

Starlings are remarkably sociable; not only do they frequent the dwellings of man, and live amicably with rooks and jackdaws, but they agree so well among themselves during the breeding season as to have been accused of polygamy. There is no doubt, however, but that they pair like other birds, although they

either do not feel, or manage to conceal, any jealousy. Their unanimity is wonderful. A flock of starlings on the wing seems possess but one mind. When large numbers fly together, they show at a distance like a cloud. In an instant—while you are watching it-it becomes invisible. Every individual in the whole flock-containing perhaps thousands -has checked itself in mid-flight, and turned edgeways at the same moment. The movement is so simultaneous, and is executed so suddenly, that it cannot be the result of a signal. You watch the moving cloud—phit! it is gone! not a single bird is visible. In a minute more it reappears completely; the starlings have all turned again, and presented the full surface of their wings to the spectator. Of course, this phenomenon appears only when the flock is so far off that the form of each bird is indistinguishable. At fullest it is only a flat dot; but when turned with its edge towards you, it disappears. The whole flock turns thus with a flash like the thin parallel boards of a Venetian blind. Not one hesitates or forgets himself. This perfect drill-if such it may be called-is seen best in the neighbourhood of the fens, when the birds are about to settle down to roost among the reeds

132

Starlings in Reeds.

in late autumn. They often fly round for some time as if to see that all is safe-and when they do pitch down, every tongue is loosened. None but those who have heard it, can conceive the babel of chatter which then breaks out. It generally takes some time, however, for them to settle down. Half a dozen will alight together on the same reed, which breaks under their weight, and compels them to take to the wing again, though not to rise high. Thus, there is a sort of surf or spray of birds for awhile, after the whole living torrent has poured itself down. At last they all get secure foot-hold, but not till they have destroyed many reeds, which are valuable for thatching and other purposes.

When they rise, they do so at once, with a rush like a storm. If you can creep up near enough, and then snap a cap or fire a pistol, the air, without exaggeration, is darkened in a moment. It seems as if every starling were a sentry. Large numbers are then sometimes killed at one shot. Colonel Hawker, in his book on shooting, tells how, with his large double-barrelled punt-gun, he once brought down five hundred at one discharge. He adds, at the same time, as

Their varied Notes.

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if in excuse for such wholesale slaughter, that starlings are very good eating when stewed with rice, but that you must pull their heads off directly they are killed, otherwise they will have a bitter taste. I have found cats unwilling to touch them, though they will eat other birds greedily. Their dislike may arise from this same posthumous protest on the part of the starlings against being killed.

The starling is an imitative animal. It has been said by some to mock the notes of other birds even when in the wild state. We all know that it may be taught to pipe tunes and speak when in captivity; the practice of splitting its tongue to facilitate its learning is, however, as useless as it is cruel.

There is a sociable variety in its language at all times. When starlings appear in the spring, after their partial migration, or revisit their breeding-places for a week or so before shifting their quarters for the winter, their pipe is very plaintive and pleasant. When building and breeding, I have noticed, beside the sound of love-making, a peculiar anxious cry of alarm at being disturbed, which they utter while on the wing; otherwise they

134

Starlings' Nests.

seldom speak, except when perched. Thus they are unlike their companions, the rooks and jackdaws, which converse incessantly with solemn caw and pert "jackle" during flight.

The starling does not build in trees, except sometimes in holes and under the nests of rooks. It loves above all places the ruin and old church-tower. There, deep in holes, cracks, and hollows, it makes a large, loose, artless nest with straw, grass, and feathers, and lays several very pale-blue eggs.

Many and many a time have I, when a boy, found a starling nest, or rather the hole which led to it, up in the airy bell-chamber of our old church, but have been quite unable to touch the coveted eggs. Either the entrance was too small even for a boy's hand, or the nest made so deep in that I could not reach it, though at the sacrifice of knuckle-skin and jacket-sleeve.

Since I used not to "harry" nests, but only carry away two or three eggs, soon replaced by the birds, I considered this rather hard after a nasty scramble among the timbers and wheels of the woodwork in which the bells were hung. No doubt, however, a pretty piece of sentiment might be founded on this