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| Some kind of Starling | |
| By Sir_Nigel | ||||||||||
| 29 April 2008 | ||||||||||
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Early in Spring you appeared on the lawn, flown in from some far foreign shore. Ignoring French chateaus and castles in Spain you preferred to set down at my door. You arrived with your wife, or your partner for life? (or some bird you’d picked up on the way) and straightaway set about building a nest, it was plain you intended to stay. You built your new home in my guttering pipe oblivious to safety or drains. But your twiggy construction soon blocked up the hole so the water pours off when it rains. I got a good look at you later that month when my ladder reached up to the roof. As I cleared out your nest you just perched on the slates and observed me detached and aloof. But after I’d gone you went back to your work and rebuilt your fine dwelling from scratch. Then, settled once more, your wife laid her eggs and expected her babies to hatch. So I left you alone and accepted defeat but you then showed a haughty disdain. You would strut round the lawn like a prince among men, and you’d given me leave to remain. ‘This kingdom is mine’ you seemed to suggest, ‘let humans approach if they dare.‘ For when they drew near, you’d halt and stand firm, and defy with that beady black stare.
So many others have paving and brick and a horror of wildlife and weeds. You feast on the natural abundance of worms and will welcome a fat juicy slug. Next door they love decking, they’ll shriek at a worm and kill anything resembling a bug. Trees have been felled there so leaves do not fall, and birds do not twitter or swoop. You nonetheless mount special sorties at dawn to splatter their cars with your poop. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you like, for you and your missus have thrived But sadly it seems all your babies are dead – I found shattered blue shells on the drive. Soon you’ll be leaving for sunnier climes and head out ‘cross the Bay of Biscay. But will you remember your old Summer home as you settle in far Mandalay?
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