The starling story goes that some English bloke from Britain missed the beautiful colors of starlings when he first came to this country, and he returned to his bloody country to collect many and bring them back to the United States. If you've ever lived in England and experienced their very Syracuse-like gray skies and rain, and if you've ever eaten their food or tried to brush their teeth, you might have a better hunch about why this Brit thought the starling was a beautiful bird.
To me, they are beneath pigeons and they are rats with wings. I'm very upset.
See, I have had a pair of Northern Flickers (in the woodpecker family) living in my dead tree for three years. I love waking up in the morning and having them drink from my bird fountain and seeing them work their way around neighboring trees. This year, they began to nest when, I'm not sure what happened, but suddenly a degenerate couple of starlings took over their roost. They now live in the two holes the flickers left in my dead tree. The more ridiculous part is that the starlings have now mated and their beaked rugrats are poking their heads out of the nest to get fed grubs, but then they stick their tail feathers out to leave their #@$# all down the side of the tree.
I hate starlings. I am hoping karma will be with me and soon the ruby belly hummingbirds will return and go to war with these rats.