The Starling (birds of East Finchley, part 3)

Continuing with my bird-by-bird look at the avian life of East Finchley (and yes, we will get to the finches at some point!), I’m looking at Starlings this time. Glossy black and speckled (more so in the autumn), and rather gregarious, the Common Starling (Sturnus vulgaris, also known as the European Starling in North America) always strikes me as being a winter bird even though it is in fact a resident here in Britain. 

It’s also on the RSPB’s red list according to my bird book (the RSPB Handbook of British Birds, 2021 edition) as the British Starling population has experienced a strong decline, although from what I can see (ie. Starlings most days when I go for a walk or look at the feeder in my front garden) they’re a regular sight. Unlike the smaller birds that visit, they’re not afraid of the parakeets!

Numbers have actually declined in much of Western Europe over the past few decades, due largely to changes in farming meaning that there are fewer invertebrates for them to feed on. Worldwide, though, they have been deemed to be of Least Concern by the International Union for Conservation of Nature (this being what you see when you look up a bird species on Wikipedia). They were introduced into North America in the nineteenth century, notably in 1890 when a chap called Eugene Schliffen released sixty of them in New York’s Central Park, although the notion that he had a plan (sorry, couldn’t resist!) to introduce every bird species mentioned in the works of William Shakespeare into the US appears to be an urban myth. 

Back here in Britain, the Starling is a resident bird s as though numbers do indeed swell in the winter as we get an influx of visitors from Scandinavia and Eastern Europe. 

Starlings are the great mimics of the bird world. Their song (and it’s mostly the males who do the singing) can be melodical and it can be mechanical, and they can imitate other birds as well as man-made sounds like car alarms. A general rule of thumb that I have with birdsong is that if I can’t figure out what it is, it’s safe to assume that it may be a Starling.

Perhaps that’s why I hear a lot of Starlings!

I cannot mention Starlings without mentioning murmurations — those close-formation swarms of large numbers of flying Starlings, synchronised yet random in terms of direction. It’s a sight to behold but I have only ever seen it once, at dusk on the seafront at Aberystwyth (where, incidentally, there’s a pub called the Starling Cloud, although that’s quite a way inland; best pub in Aber is the Glengower which is right on the esplanade). It was quite the sight! How, I wonder, are they able to do that?

2024 highlights

Looking back on the year, as you do at this time, several birding highlights stand out for me.

First, by some distance, was a trip to Wales in May, during which I went on a boat trip out of Tenby, going around Caldey Island. Just off Caldey is St Margaret’s Island, which is home to a large seabird colony. There were Cormorants, there were Guillemots, there were Razorbills, there were Kittiwakes — but best of all, there were Puffins. It wasn’t the first time I’d done that boat trip, but it was the first time I have ever seen Puffins, and that made the whole thing worthwhile. They had abandoned the island a few years ago thanks to a rat infestation (as they nest in burrows atop cliffs, Puffins are very vulnerable to this), but they have returned although they’re now using rock fissures which precludes this particular colony (only a handful of breeding pairs) from expanding. Puffins have been on my birding wish-list for a while, so getting to see them was incredibly gratifying. 

I’ve been to Suffolk a couple of times this year. While there in March, I went to Minsmere (one of the finest RSPB reserves in the country) and had a wonderful time. No Bitterns, alas, but in one of the hides a volunteer pointed out a rare sighting indeed — Lesser Scaup. Had I not had the benefit of his wisdom, doubtless I would have logged it was a funny-looking Tufted Duck! Only afterwards did it occur to me that I should have asked how he knew it was that and not a regular Scaup (which is still rare but at least it has its own page in the RSPB Handbook of British Birds (fifth edition), unlike the Lesser Scaup which is listed in tye ‘Rarities’ section at the back.

In September I was back in Suffolk, staying at Southwold. While there, I went for a few bike rides, exploring some of the local churches as well as birding. The highlight in terms of the latter was a Yellow Wagtail in the fields between Southwold (the town) and Southwold Harbour, and six Spoonbills on the Blyth Estuary (specifically, seen from the bird hide a short walk out of Blythburgh; said hide contained an abandoned Swallow’s nest, interestingly enough). 

Closer to home, the bird walks at Brent Reservoir with my local RSPB group yielded some good sightings. The reservoir itself was drained earlier this year, and as a result we saw Water Rail and Snipe from the hide, as well as a the head of a Tawney Owl poking out from a tree-hollow and a Peregrine perched atop a nearby block of flats. I would like to do these walls more often, if my diary allows!

In Barcelona in a sweltering July, I visited the amazing Sagrada Familia, an amazing building which, from a purely birding perspective, is home to Crag Martins which nest in the towers! Also in Barcelona were many Monk Parakeets, which (unlike the Ring-necked Parakeets we get here in London) are originally from South America. 

And then, in October, there was Canada, of which the birding highlight had to be the Hawk Watch in Toronto’s High Park.

An enjoyable birding year! I look forward to seeing what 2025 brings.