The Common Starling (Sturnus vulgaris) combines all the many peculiarities of its family, and we have therefore selected it as the most suitable representative of their principal characteristics. The plumage of this bird varies considerably with age or the season of the year; in the spring the adult male is black, shaded with purple and green, these tints seeming lighter upon the wings and tail on account of the broad grey border by which the feathers are surrounded; some of those upon the back have greyish-yellow spots at their tips. The eyes are brown, the beak black, and the feet reddish brown. No sooner has the process of moulting been fully accomplished than the appearance of the bird is entirely changed, for all the feathers upon the nape, back, and breast are then tipped with white, and thus give the plumage the effect of being spotted; the beak also becomes considerably darker. The female resembles the male, but her plumage is even more spotted than that of her mate during the spring months of the year. The young are of a dark brownish grey, the region of the face being lighter than the rest of the body; the beak is greyish black, and the feet brownish grey. The length of this species is from eight and a half to eight and three-quarter inches, its breadth fourteen to fifteen inches; the wing measures rather more than four, and the tail from two and a half to two and three-quarter inches.
The Common Starling is met with throughout almost the whole of Europe, principally frequenting its more southern portions, and preferring such wooded pastures or plains as are well watered or marshy. During its migrations it very frequently visits Northern Africa, and is an annual winter guest in Egypt and Algiers, but for the most part the flocks do not leave the Continent of Europe, and pass the colder part of the year in flying about the country in company with Ravens, Thrushes, and other similar birds. Few of the feathered tribe are endowed with so joyous and contented a disposition as is the Starling, whose cheerful voice may be heard amidst the utmost inclemencies of the weather, as it perches fully exposed to all the attacks of wind or rain, and appears philosophically indifferent to the scantiness of its supply of food. No sooner has spring commenced than the males may be seen about towns or villages, perching upon the steeples or high trees and pouring out their song, which is accompanied by a variety of animated gesticulations. We are, however, perhaps, giving our readers a wrong impression by speaking of the sounds uttered by the Starling as being a song, for it is, in fact, little more than a succession of harsh, loud, distinct sounds, uttered by the energetic vocalist with so much gaiety and expression as to render the performance quite attractive, especially when combined, as it occasionally is, with imitations of the songs of many other birds. Even such noises as the creaking of a door, the clattering of a windmill, or the crowing of a cock may often be clearly distinguished amongst its attempts at mimicry; the little singer will frequently continue its vocal exercise for many hours at a time, only pausing occasionally in order to go in search of food. The breeding season commences early in spring, when Starlings build their nests, usually in the hollows of trees, or, should these not be attainable, in holes of walls or old buildings, and many are the disputes and combats that take place among the members of a flock before all are suited with a home. The nest itself is formed of stalks of grass, thickly lined with a bed of soft feathers, collected from the neighbouring farmyards; but, should such warm materials not be procurable, the architect is equally contented to employ hay, straw, or even small twigs. The brood consists of five or six long, large eggs, having a somewhat rough but glossy shell, of a light blue colour; upon these the female alone sits, but both parents assist in obtaining the constant supply of food required by the nestlings, though the father of the family manages now and then to steal away from his duties and pass an hour in singing with a party of pleasure-seeking companions. No sooner have the young left the nest than the vocal performances to which we have alluded may be heard throughout the entire day, for they do not require attention from their parents except during the first week; after leaving their home they immediately associate themselves with others of their kindred, and fly about in companies that are often very numerous, being in time strengthened by the addition of the second families, to the rearing of which the parents almost immediately turn their attention. When the duties of incubation are terminated, the old birds at once leave their nests, and congregate in immense flocks, which pass the night either amongst the trees or in beds of reeds or osiers. These swarms, occasionally containing hundreds or rather thousands of Starlings, fly about in dense masses during the day, and retire at night to the same roosting-place, their numbers frequently occasioning the reeds upon which they settle to break beneath their great weight, thus obliging them to seek shelter elsewhere, a proceeding always accompanied by an amount of squabbling and screaming that is absolutely deafening. Before leaving the country, the parent birds revisit their nests, upon which they perch and sing every morning and evening. They only commence their migrations when compelled to seek shelter from the snow and frost, and lead as blithe and active a life in the countries to which they resort as they do in their summer haunts.
THE COMMON STARLING (Sturnus vulgaris).
Few species are so deserving of the protection of man as these most useful birds, an account of whose services in clearing the ground from snails and other hurtful creatures would sound almost incredible, were we to compute the hosts of active destroyers from whose attacks our fields and gardens are thus preserved. With characteristic patience, a German naturalist has been at the trouble of ascertaining that a single young Starling will consume 140 snails in fourteen hours out of the twenty-four, during which the young nestlings are constantly fed, only about three minutes intervening between the arrivals of the parents with fresh supplies for the hungry beaks of the little family. We cannot follow the writer through all his intricate calculations concerning a large swarm of Starlings that visited the part of Thuringia in which he lived, and must content ourselves by giving our readers the extraordinary result—namely, that the 180,000 birds of which this unusually large flock was composed could not have cleared the ground of less than 12,600,000 snails and worms daily during the time they remained in that neighbourhood. The proceedings of the Starling when in search of food are extremely amusing, as it runs hither and thither, prying into every conceivable nook with keen eyes and ready beak, so as to render it impossible for its victims to escape detection; even when search by sight is impracticable, the tongue is employed to feel amongst the grass, and accomplishes its duty with most unerring precision. When exposed to the attacks of their foes, the cunning of these birds is of the utmost service in securing their safety. It will frequently happen that when flying about in company with Crows and Jackdaws, the enjoyment of the party is interrupted by the sudden appearance of a Falcon or Sparrow-hawk; no sooner does the enemy approach than the vigilant Starlings at once take the alarm and beat a hasty and quiet retreat, leaving the bird of prey to seek a victim among their less intelligent or observant companions. From man they have little to fear, for by him their numerous services are too fully appreciated to allow of any great number being doomed to a life of confinement. Still, when caged their qualifications are such as to render them general favourites. When kept alone they are readily tamed, but, on the contrary, should they be placed with other birds, they soon become quarrelsome: and, not content with constantly squabbling with their companions, have often been known to tear the nests of the latter to pieces, and throw out not merely the eggs but the young. In our own aviary we on one occasion found a very lively Starling flying about with a piece of white paper in its beak, and chasing the terrified occupants in all directions, this sportive performance apparently affording the greatest delight to the perpetrator of the joke, who seemed to enjoy the alarm and screams thus excited. Most extraordinary are the tales told of the facility with which this species can be taught to speak or imitate almost any sound; an instance is recorded of a Starling having learnt to repeat the Lord's Prayer quite distinctly, without missing a word; the naturalist Lenz, to whose curious calculations respecting these birds we have already alluded, kept one of them tame, and tells us that this creature not only whistled two tunes, and could utter syllables, but that it understood and obeyed his words and gestures like a dog.
The following narrative, for which we are indebted to the kindness of Dr. McFarlane McBirnie, will be read with interest:—"My father," writes Dr. Birnie, "from boyhood was passionately fond of birds, when under ten years of age he travelled from Balpon to Linlithgow and back, a distance of forty miles, in order to get a canary. A few years after, having broken his leg, he was confined to the recumbent position for two months, the tedium of which was relieved by the company of his favourites. In 1845 he bought a fledgling Starling for eighteen-pence, and at once commenced its education. He spent three hours a day (not, of course, consecutively) for twelve months before he brought it to perfection. From the very first, poor 'Richard,' as it was called, showed a love of learning, he seemed actually to drink it in; he would lie with his head inclined, as a person does when he wishes to listen intently, and would lean against the wires of his cage to be as near as possible to the sound; and I would here remark that in training a bird to sing and speak, the instruction should be imparted in a subdued, semi-whispering tone, in a darkened chamber, where there is nothing to distract the attention. My father made it a point to give Richard half an hour's tuition every night after ten o'clock, in total darkness, and he says he found it more tractable then than at any other time. It would take up too much space to show the rationale of this; I may state, however, that in early morning birds are intent on procuring food, and cannot be expected to listen to instruction, and then, during the day there are so many things going on in a house, so many diverse sounds, that it is impossible for them to single out the vocables we wish, whereas, after three hours' repose, when there is no desire for food, no wish for the pleasure of muscular motion, no sounds or sights to withdraw their attention, then is the fitting time to teach. By the time Richard was able to hop from perch to perch, his master saw that his pupil was striving to imitate him; never was scholar more apt or more gratified at receiving a prize than Richard was at getting a bit of hard-boiled egg on achieving two or three additional notes, and in this way he soon became the Mario of Starlings. At the word of command—as at the down-beat of a conductor's baton—Richard started off with the 'Hills of Glenorchy.' I regretted my father had not selected a more popular tune; yet I question if one could have been got more adapted for the vocalisation of a bird: prolonged notes, such as minims or dotted crotchets, a bird is not able to maintain; a tune with quavers, and in marching time, is best adapted to their sustaining powers. After having whistled the 'Hills of Glenorchy,' Richard paused, as it were to draw breath, and said, 'That's the "Hills of Glenorchy"—that's a tune for the ladies;' 'A wee gill o' the best, here—quick, quick, make haste;' 'Richard's a pretty, pretty bird;' 'A coach and six for pretty Richard;' 'Richard's the boy for kissing the lasses;' here he imitated the sound of kissing, familiar to every one, which convulsed his audience with laughter, especially if a number of ladies were present; then added, 'Now for the "Hills of Glenorchy,"' and began de novo. I have heard many birds articulate, and am sure I shall be corroborated in the statement that, more particularly in the Parrot tribe, the words are often a mere screech—harsh and dissonant to a musical ear, and in many cases a stranger would require to be informed beforehand what the bird was going to say, ere he could properly understand it; with Richard it was quite the reverse; his whole performance was thoroughly musical, and so accurate was his vocalisation, that when at his best the tuning-fork showed that his notes had not fallen to any appreciable extent at the end of his song. Hundreds of times have I seen him roused from sleep at midnight, to gratify parties who had come from a distance to hear him; my father would bend over the cage, and say in a petting sort of way, 'Come, now, Richard, give us the "Hills of Glenorchy,"' when the poor bird would hop over to the wires, place his bill in my father's mouth, get a kiss, and then go through the whole performance as often as he was asked. Richard had, besides his chef-d'œuvre, many stray sentences, which of themselves would have rendered him famous, such as calling the dog, ordering coals, &c.; but these my father discouraged. Richard died at the patriarchal age of sixteen, deeply regretted by those who had, for so many years, looked upon and spoken to him as one of the family. While I write, he is looking down on me from his glass shrine."
THE SARDINIAN STARLING.
The Sardinian Starling (Sturnus unicolor) is a species inhabiting Southern Europe, and distinguished from the bird last described by the long and slender feathers upon its head and nape, and by the colour of its plumage, the latter being of pale slate colour, almost entirely without spot, and only enlivened by a very slight metallic lustre. The coat of the young bird is dark brown. This species inhabits Spain, Southern Italy, and a large portion of Asia; it is common in Cashmere, Scinde, and the Punjaub; its size is somewhat larger than that of our Common Starling, which it closely resembles in its habits.
THE ROSE STARLING.