As much as I love all living creatures, furry,  feathered or otherwise, starlings have never been one of my favourite birds. They always seem aggressive and argumentative, and perfectly able to look after themselves with their sharp beaks.

Having said that, I’d never harm them, or see one suffer. Indeed a few years ago I tried to rescue one that had somehow got it’s leg caught in the bird-feeder, and was hanging there, lifeless.

Fortunately for all interested parties, it managed to free itself as I was finding my gardening gloves. I felt  protection against the aforementioned sharp beak was required.

But although I don’t like them much, starlings seem to like me, or at any rate, our house, as we have several families nesting in the eaves.

The parents swoop across the lawn, caterpillar in beak, only to be greeted by the excited, hungry clamour of their offspring, who are still nest-bound. You just can’t escape them as they are in most rooms.

We have 2 families in the kitchen, 1 in the hall, 1 in the bathroom, 1 on the landing, and Peter has at least 2 in his office. Then their are the 2 families in the boiler house.

I don’t know if they cause any damage, and we’ve had nests in previous years, it’s just that there seems to be more than usual this Spring.

In a few weeks time they will all fledge, and the class of 2012 will be fighting and squabbling on the lawn for the tastiest morcel.