Most think that the starling is a common bird, like me. Boring actually. Ordinary in color and size. Few know that she has steady feet and the ability to mutate her vocalizations to her surroundings mimicking the shrill of a car alarm or the murmur of human speech for both gain and protection. Her plume, mostly brown, has a subtle, iridescent sheen.

The truth is she has many colors; and she is adaptable and steady.

Like me.

And as day shifts to dusk, or the Summer to Fall she moves in unpredictable ways with her brethren. She murmurs as one with the others in the bird ballet. Here and there; this and that; left and right. They move circuitously flapping wings and tipping the balance of the closest seven who, in turn, do the same with the next. It is the dance of the day; and the turn of the seasons.

Together they create something that they cannot alone and will probably never even know existed.

Alone she is remarkably unremarkable.

But, in murmuration? She is part of something much bigger; and will most certainly never be forgotten.


Christine Lasher