We eagerly await the return of our favorite birds. I delight in the dainty chipping sparrows with their auburn caps and the friendly catbird who will observe our goings on with a cocked head and curious eye all summer long.
Many of us greet other birds, however, with far less enthusiasm. The starlings and the English sparrows are the most notorious so-called “invasives” and are often treated with disdain or cruelty. One site advises that to get rid of starlings, immediately remove all food sources, adding that starlings are non-native and thus unprotected, so nest removal is allowed to prevent infestation.
What exactly are “native species?” What standard is being used to try and protect us from assumed interlopers? The answers are more elusive than I had realized.
I learned from my sister, a bio-geography professor, that what we assign to be a native species, plant or animal, is open to question. In the U.S. native species are often considered those that were here when Europeans first colonized this continent in the 16th century. Additionally, it is often argued that only habitats undisturbed by human activity can be called natural. However, it is well known that the aboriginal people, with their extensive use of fire, their hunting practices and agriculture had a profound impact on the land. Some experts, therefore, suggest that the change from a pristine, or natural, ecosystem to a disturbed one in North America should be pushed back 10,000 years, when humans — the most invasive species of all — first set foot on the continent.
How did starlings and English sparrows get here in the first place? They did not choose to journey across an ocean in search of a new habitat — these highly evolved organisms were introduced by well-meaning people who lacked the ecological knowledge we possess.
On March 6, 1890, a wealthy socialite named Eugene Schieffelin released 100 common starlings, native to Europe and Asia, into Central Park in New York City. The release was part of Schieffelin’s decidedly eccentric effort to introduce to the United States all the birds mentioned in Shakespeare’s works!
And in 1851, Brooklyn Institute Director Nicholas Pike, a reputable naturalist, purchased eight pairs of house sparrows from England. It was the beginning of a national attempt to control insect pests, especially those attacking our once glorious shade giving elms.
Today most North American birds are struggling to survive. As many as half of U.S. birds are in decline according to a 2022 report and though European starlings do use strong-arm tactics to beat native species for nesting sites, they are not thriving either. We are all participating in what Elizabeth Kolbert deems the Sixth Extinction. We are all trying desperately to survive amid ongoing chaos and vastly diminishing resources.
Our Judeo-Christian mythology bequeathed us dominion over the world and we have destroyed Earth’s abundance and complex relationships of species because of unthinking greed and enormous ignorance. Any balance in nature is unlikely to be re-established for generations. Denounce starlings and trap house sparrows if you must, but understand that they are beautiful creatures who, like us, are living at a time of environmental upheaval and simply behaving as their genes direct.
It is undeniable that to grow adequate food for a population of over eight billion we need to control or partially eliminate other species. A friend, however, lifted my spirits by telling me that in her book Robin Wall Kimmerer suggested that she speak amiably to the ubiquitous bittersweet, imported from East Asia c.1860 for decorative use, as she yanks its tenacious roots from her garden. It is a gesture similar to the Inuit who give thanks to any prey who offers its body for the peoples’ sustenance. Kimmerer, an eminent scientist and member of the Potawatomi tribe, never fails to recognize and respect the inviolable unity of all creation.
Observe the starlings with their spangled, iridescent backs the next time a horde scours your lawn for sustenance and be sure to watch a swirling murmuration in the fall — a miracle of motion and coordination. And remember when English sparrows, wearing tidy black bibs, visit your Eden they’ve only come to devour some of the insects that harass us. Offer them all, at least, some silent words of understanding. They are as vital a part of the ancient and interconnected struggle for survival as we are.
Margot Fleck lives in Northfield.