366 ODD HOURS WITH NATURE 



when he gets his upper mandible over a fragment 

 of desirable substance well, the fragment is his. 



At present little flocks of starlings are feeding 

 on the fruit of the elderberry tree, and it requires 

 a bird of the starling's serenity of assurance about 

 his place in the world to do justice to such a feast. 

 The cymes of elderberries are always placed on 

 the extremity of branches, which are usually slender 

 and often pendulous. In fact, they form the 

 extreme outer surface of the mass of the tree. It 

 follows from this disposition of the fruit that it is 

 not very easily got at. It extends beyond all the 

 good perching branches, and as the berries have 

 to be picked off one by one the job of clearing 

 them is one of time and detail. The starling 

 manages it with much wing work. He descends 

 on the tree with a splash, and after much flounder- 

 ing gets a hold on among the leaf -stalks. As he 

 feeds his footing is constantly giving* way, and 

 before a cluster is cleared he may be resting 

 on outspread wings, deliberately using them as 

 supporting limbs. A dozen starlings feeding in 

 this way in an elder -tree make as much noise as 

 a cat among the ivy, and if there is a cat in the 

 neighbourhood he finds the watching of them a 

 frightfully exciting thing. The starlings are always 

 falling and always recovering themselves, and pussy 

 is plainly filled with a hope, against her better 

 judgment, that one of them will fall right down. 

 But, of course, one never does. 



It is part of the starling's great confidence as 

 a feeder that he is almost the only bird in this 

 country which has the audacity to descend upon 



