June 29, 2005 12:25 PM
Home sweet bird-filled Loudoun home
One of the dearest gifts my husband Tripp has given me is making sure we have lots of birds around – with feeders of all sorts always filled.
I so love birds. Their cheerful music lifts my morning walk from simple endurance to sheer enchantment. The low-flying cardinals which sweep before my car along the dirt roads remind me how blessed I am to live in Virginia.
The swallows nesting each year above our entrance remind me to keep things simple and to focus on my family. And the dozens of birds showing up each day at the feeders just inches outside my office window amuse and inspire me as I write.
When Tripp first hung those feeders so close to the glass, it took a while for our guests to discover them. Once they did begin perching there, they were easily frightened away by the slightest movement on the human side of the glass. But after a while they settled in, reveling in birdseed while I reveled in words. Now I have regular daily visitors of all colors and sizes – including an elegant pair of doves.
And even Sophia’s languid white kitty, stretched out on the windowsill watching, doesn’t faze them.
But our peace has been recently shattered by an onslaught of starlings – beady-eyed black marauders who seem to live to antagonize everything else on earth. I even spotted one harassing a majestic great heron which surged up from the high grass near our house one misty morning last week – the first time I’d seen a heron so close, but who knows if it will ever return with all the squawking from our new poachers.
My starling resentment drove me to Google, where I learned they are not native to this country, but were introduced by a group of Shakespeare fans who decided America should have all the birds mentioned in his plays. (Proving that even before Silly Internet Sites people had too much time on their hands.)
These well-meaning but arguably clueless folks let loose 30 pairs of European Starlings in New York City's Central Park in the late 1890’s. Within 30 years they had spread from coast to coast. Today there are 200 million spread from Alaska to Mexico. They’re the ones that cluster on utility lines, a la Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds. And they’re the ones scaring the bejeebers out of the kinder, gentler birds – with longer generational credentials –outside my windowpane.
I want to make them go away.
I’ve been thinking about my little ecosystem since the elections, where I served with four lovely ladies – all born and bred in Loudoun County, my adopted home. Do those who grew up in what was once the unspoiled splendor of Loudoun ever think of newcomers like me as starlings? Because certainly there are invaders who migrate here intent on making it their own territory, elbowing their way rudely here and there, with little regard for the sensibilities of those who for lifetimes have called this their home.
To those blessed to be Loudoun natives I’d like to say: Please know there are some who come simply because it’s beautiful just the way it is, who’ve been looking for a kinder, gentler way of life, and who wouldn’t change anything for the world.
Comments
Those bird feeders are what I miss about our old house. We had a treed, half-acre lot with a creek. You could see ten cardinals out there, on a snowy January day. My mother has lots of feeders, out in the country. It is such a treat to watch the finches, doves, jays, chickadees, etc.
Sorry about the starlings. We have problems with them around here, too. In fact, my husband removed a nest of them from above our bathroom ventilator about two months ago.
Posted by: Julana | June 29, 2005 5:41 PM
