In 1784, Mozart heard a starling in a shop sing a variation on the theme from his Piano Concerto No. 17. Enchanted, he took it home. Just over a century later, New York pharmacist Eugene Schieffelin, a member of the American Acclimatization Society, imported 80 starlings from England – apparently as part of an attempt to introduce to the Americas every bird mentioned in Shakespeare’s plays – and released them in Central Park. Another century on and starling numbers have exploded in North America – there are perhaps 150 million.
Thanks to starlings being an introduced species that may out-compete native birds for nest cavities, they are probably the most hated bird species in North America today. But anybody who has ever looked at a starling close up, especially when its plumage catches the sun, will have noticed that they’re quite beautiful birds with fascinating behaviours. When naturalist and author Lyanda Lynn Haupt noticed these qualities in a flock of starlings feeding in her garden, she recalled the strange little story about Mozart and, to paraphrase her description of how book projects come about, “an idea flew into her brain.”
Recounting in parallel the twin tales of Mozart’s relationship with his bird and the author’s own experience of raising a nestling starling, Mozart’s Starling is a thoughtful reflection on the relationships between humans and our wild neighbours. It is also an insightful commentary on how that relationship is complicated by perceptions of invasive species; Haupt points out the contradiction between how we judge individuals versus a whole species: “Do I want starlings gone? Erased from the face of North America? Yes, unequivocally. … And do I love them? Their bright minds, their sparkling beauty, their unique consciousness, their wild starling voices? Their feathers, brown from one angle, shining from another? Yes, yes, I do.”
For a relatively short book this has an impressive blend of genres, moving through popular science, nature writing, philosophy, a smattering of travel (as the author explores Mozart sites in Vienna and Salzburg) and an exploration of the creative process. The real star of the narrative, though, is the nestling Haupt sneakily rescued and raised – keeping a starling is illegal in Washington State, where she lives. Named Carmen, the bird becomes an essential part of the household. The many little observations about her behaviour scattered through the book are quite charming but not merely included for the sake of whimsy, instead providing a fascinating glimpse into the often surprising world of wild bird behaviour.
Seen close up in this way, the intelligence of birds can be misinterpreted as making them seem more human, but what the two starlings portrayed here teach us is not to see birds as pseudo-people but as more fully birds, while seeing in the possibility of relationship with them a way of becoming more fully human ourselves. Continuing a common theme that runs throughout Haupt’s work, Mozart’s Starling shows that the key to a life enriched by nature is most often found in the commonplace, often overlooked wildlife right on our doorstep. “Mozart found inspiration in the presence of a common bird. For us, too, the song of the world so often rises in places we had not thought to look.”