I love my starlings.
I love the babbling noise that they make in the mornings hidden up in the tall hawthorn at the bottom of my garden. I love the enthusiasm with which the fledglings take to the birdbath on a sunny day. I love the fact that they form one of the great wonders of nature - the murmuration - a whirling, swirling ever-changing abstract shape in the sky made of hundreds of individuals. I love the fine speckled adult winter plumage against the snow and the way over the summer months that the plumage of the juveniles morphs from their innocent brown to an adult coat of many colours.
And I love the rainbow in their wings when the sunshine hits them just right.
In some other places in the world the starling is seen as a pest species. Here in the UK it is in inexplicable decline. The second blood of fledglings is now visiting the garden and the flock I think is healthy.
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| Parent attends to young fledgling back in May |
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| A juvenile shows off an adult 'waistcoat' |
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