THE STARLING 131 



perhaps a mile, all flying from the cold marshlands or fen- 

 man's stacks in parties which circle around over the reed- 

 bed a few times and then sink into it with innumerable 

 chatterings to sleep through the icy night-watches whilst 

 the water freezes hard and clear below them, and the tassels 

 turn to frosted silver above them ; for the starling is one of 

 the hardiest of birds. But even he is of use to the fenman ; 

 he is a lover of wire-worms, and will follow the plough 

 steadily day by day in search of the hideous, foul, tough- 

 skinned wire-worm, that lover of carrots. And though, 

 like rooks and wild-fowl, he himself is alive with lice in 

 summer, he is sedulous to pick ticks from the flocks and 

 herds, thus again befriending the farmer — scavenger that he 

 is. In August, too, you may see him hawking for flies after 

 the manner of a swallow, clearing the air of vermin as well 

 as the land. 



Low down in the dazzling chalk coast of Kent the star- 

 ling nests with the house-martins and jackdaws and rock- 

 pigeons among the bright yellow wall-flowers and rosy vale- 

 rians. And that is why, perhaps, old fenmen in Norfolk 

 will tell you there are two kinds of starlings — the wood- 

 starling, which nests in houses, and nests earlier than the 

 rock - starling, which nests in cliffs; and they say the 

 wood-starling is the one to talk, "if you teach him," for 

 the starling will become the tamest and most docile of 

 birds if taken young. One old man I knew kept one for 

 years, not even clipping his wings. He named him Billy, 

 and Billy, like a good boy, always answered to his name, 

 going up to his master. 



Billy's master was an old ratter, and his ferrets would 

 eat starling ; so often on a winter night old Bob would 

 go down to the reed-beds, where the birds roosted, several 

 huddled together on a reed for warmth, and shout, and 

 the mighty flock would fly out of the reeds with a roar 

 and thousand-tongued chattering, when the old muzzle- 

 loader would flash red and roar in turn, the shot cutting a 



