Early morning. Despite the sun rising even later, and the threat of winter looming close, we’ve stuck to our coffee routine. I am looking outside the window, and the motions of people getting out of the trains at the Fenchurch Street Station is almost hypnotic.
My first real summer in London was a shocker. It was hot, and the city had a lot less birds. Last weekend, I saw that the starlings made their grand spotty appearance. Starlings move from the countryside to the cities in the winter – perhaps the cities are warmer and offer more food. They provide a lot of entertainment by the river side. Once we saw two starlings fight for a piece of bread under a bench. They are easily bullied by the pigeons usually. Starling 1 got piece of bread. Starling 2 in a fit of rage flew and sat over the bench and crapped right on Starling 1. We laughed at their antics.
They’re restless birds. It’s hard to even photograph them. I found myself calling one of them a moron for not sitting still for half a second while I struggled with my camera. They move in the grass with a furious pace looking for worms. And god, they chirp like it’s the end of the world. In the heavy winter quiet, when the world is muffled in thick jackets, caps and gloves, these birds provide much respite. So many colours on such a tiny body. It looks like there was a lot of colour left over and someone sat and spray painted them with a vengeance. Sometimes they take off all together and fly in circles and formations around trees.
Eugene Schieffelin released 80 starlings in New York in 1890. There perhaps wasn’t a single starling in the US till then. Apparently, he wanted wanted New Yorkers to see birds mentioned by William Shakespeare. Prolific breeders that they are, the 80 birds swelled to 200 million.
So anyhow, today morning, the decibel level of the starlings is rather high. Suddenly, out of the blue, The Beatles are remembered for Blackbird. I have no idea why I love this song so much. Makes me immensely happy. Here’s a nice video pulled out of YouTube. Beatles singing and a photo collage. McCartney wrote the song when The Beatles were running free in Rishikesh.
Nice!
It’s always great to read about birds.
Schieffelin story was new to me. Thanks!
You do know the real story about “Blackbird”, don’t you? (Not the “real” story about Paul getting angry about MLK’s death and the Civil Rights movement)
Ojas: Yeah. The story was a little scary too!
km: I think I do. But we like stories – so tell no!