I'm not often moved by European Starlings, being troublesome as they are to our native wildlife. But today, considering the weather, all things are equal:
Negative twenty-three. Birds puffed up and deliberate. I watch the feeders from inside, safe, but concerned. What survived the night has a long fight ahead, an ancient struggle as pure as the arctic snow. Today, I harbor no disdain for the non-native starling -- that single, disoriented bird I saw fumble across the snow, losing its wild symmetry.