You're driving west on Oregon's Highway 26. Overhead an endless stream of birds is headed north silhouetted against the pinkish glow of day’s end. Just when the last few flit across and settle into a tree, another cloud rises in the south and the flow begins anew: Beautiful, awe-inspiring, and deadly to Oregon’s native species: These guys don’t belong here.

They are European starlings, Sturnus vulgaris L.

Introduced in New York’s Central Park in 1890 by the American Acclimatization Society (for foreign immigrants), they have not only thrived, but have multiplied to an estimated 200 million birds covering all of North America. The starling represents an incredible example of adaptation and survival, the very ability that has made it the bane of backyard birdwatchers everywhere.

In suburban areas across the country large flocks of starlings can show up to empty feeders within a day or whittle suet down to nothing in a few short hours, making it impossible to attract native species.

Flocks of starlings numbering up to a hundred thousand descend on farms and livestock facilities across the U.S. They eat the feed, contaminate feed and water supplies with their droppings, and can transfer diseases such as transmissible gastroenteritis virus through their feces. They consume planted grains, damage fruit crops such as grapes and cherries, and generally render frequented areas unsightly.

And that’s not the half of it.

They are the mafia thugs of the bird world. They ruthlessly evict native cavity-nesting species, destroying eggs or young in the process. They can and do out-compete woodpeckers, Purple Martins, Chickadees, Bewick’s and House Wrens, and even larger species like the Flicker and the American Kestrel.

The woodpeckers who excavate fresh holes become victims, and the secondary species who, unable to excavate their own, seek out abandoned woodpecker holes (Western and Mountain Bluebird, for example) also find themselves homeless.

According to the Audubon Society, most indigenous species raise one brood a year while the starling usurps building sites earlier in the spring than most and proceeds to manufacture two to three broods. The natives are outnumbered and out bred, and every year it gets worse. If you’re a bird without a nest, you’re a bird without a brood and if worse comes to worst, a species without a future.

If you live in the city, you’ve seen them. They forage anywhere and everywhere looking for anything good to eat: Grassy areas provide invertebrates (worms and grubs) while parks and parking lots provide delicacies like bread crumbs and bits of whatever else hits the ground. Often they mingle with cowbirds and blackbirds from which they are mainly distinguished by their ever-present white speckles. In summer the plumage turns iridescent purple and green and the beak is bright yellow; not so in the fall.

During the winter starlings flock and community roost by the hundreds, even thousands. In northern areas they do migrate short distances following a food supply, but in Oregon, where the climate is relatively mild and the food abundant, they stay. Ornithologists coast-to-coast agree that the starling is undoubtedly harming native species, but it is difficult to quantify.

According to Tina Phillips, biologist and project leader for the Cornell Lab of Ornithology’s Birdhouse Network, no one has been able to prove the starling is solely responsible for the decline of native species. As Tina put it, however, when “200 million birds are feeding on the same grubs as the native species, the native birds lose out.”

Starlings and English Sparrows alike prefer urban areas, especially newly developed farmland. They go where we go. For this reason only North America's wilderness remains starling-free.

Tina told me that as our cities sprawled during the 1950’s and 60’s both the sparrow and the starling affected huge population gains. During that same time period, bluebird populations declined alarmingly. With concentrated monitoring programs nationwide, such as Cornell’s Birdhouse Network, they have recovered somewhat, but more needs to be done.

Statistics published by the Northwest Berry and Grape Information Network (Oregon State University, University of Idaho and Washington State University) indicate that of the pests that damage berry crops, birds are the most problematic. An average ten percent of blueberry crops is lost to birds (native species like the robin and wren included), but losses range as high as sixty percent.

Across the United States cooperative extensions have issued bulletins outlining measures to control starling populations and protect crops and property. One example is the Nebraska Cooperative Extension bulletin NCR 451 “Starling Management in Agriculture”. Methods include closing up holes, hanging heavy plastic or rubber strips over open doorways, using netting or wire mesh, frightening with intermittent “exploders”, repellents, trapping, and poisoning. For farmers in many states it’s all-out war.

Yet there are numerous web sites devoted to the appreciation of starlings: Starling stories, how to raise a baby starling, what to feed a fledgling, and more. As with all creatures, there’s more to the story, but we need to start at the beginning.

The American Acclimatization Society’s goal was to introduce to America all birds mentioned by William Shakespeare in his collected works. (This same organization is responsible for the English Sparrow population.) The passage that inspired them? A line spoken by Hotspur to the Earl of Worchester in 1 King Henry IV 1.3, “I’ll have a starling shall be taught to speak nothing but ‘Mortimer’,…”

He probably could have. In the Audubon Society’s Field Guide to North American Birds their voice is described as “A simple, low-pitched, chirpy chatter without musical quality, interspersed with whistles, clicks, and mimicked songs and calls. Call note is a loud grating veer.” (I personally have been awakened by the sound of a donkey braying only to discover the culprit was a starling.) They vocalize in an endless and raucous carry-on especially at the onset of the breeding season, when the male is touting his nest-building skills and advertising for a mate.

His first job is site selection, whether a natural cavity, a suitable opening in a building, utility pole, traffic light or road sign. He then proceeds with the basic construction of sticks and twigs. If the female approves of his work, she lines the nest with softer materials like moss and leaves. If not, she throws out what he’s done, and they start over to complete preparations for the new arrivals together. The ultimate family man, the male protects and defends his mate and his nest, helps to raise and feed not one but two or three broods.

Often the male perches at the highest point above the nest and sings, though in songbird circles his crooning is about as appealing as a tone-deaf neighbor singing in the shower.

Perhaps that is one of the qualities that endears them to people. Perhaps it is their gift of mimicry, their clumsy gait or Three Stooges-like behavior, but regardless, the long-term effects of their presence and exponential population growth are a sobering reality.

So what can you do?

Ideally you want to prevent the starling taking up residence while simultaneously hanging out the welcome sign for native species.

Determine first whether you have starlings nesting on your property. If so, consider closing the entry. If they have young and you cannot bear the thought of destroying them, wait until they have left the nest and cover it then. Remember they will breed again, so your timing is key.

If you want to encourage native species such as the chickadee and the nuthatch, clean out the cavity (if possible), and put up a reducer (a plate with the correctly sized hole). A starling cannot nest in a hole he doesn’t fit through, but here is where the experts disagree.

Most extension service publications specify holes no larger than one inch in diameter, but Tina stresses that since the publications target agricultural facilities with barns and silos, they are deliberately erring on the side of caution. Their primary goal is to deter all species, natives and aliens.

At Cornell’s Lab of Ornithology the specified maximum size for exclusive songbird access is 1.5 inches. “A 1.25 inch hole will work for some,” said Tina, “but not for the Western Bluebird.”

Local shops specializing in backyard birds recommend 1.25 inch to 1.5 inch holes for Chickadees, Nuthatches and Bluebirds. If starlings persist, a hole extender is usually an effective deterrent. An extender is a tube that mounts onto the opening to create a tunnel one to two inches long. While the starling might wriggle through a smaller opening a quarter inch deep, he would find himself tightly wedged in a deeper one.

If you decide to provide nest boxes with holes larger than 1.5 inches (Western Bluebirds need 1.5”, Mountain Bluebirds need another sixteenth inch larger), they must be monitored. Any nesting starlings or sparrows will have to be evicted repeatedly. You have to be as tenacious and determined as they are.

If you have tried a backyard feeder only to discover you created an exclusive starlings-only eatery, there is hope. While the starling is not a particularly picky eater, there are a few things he does not care for.

Offer black oil sunflower seeds in a tube feeder. Starlings are not usually interested in them, but if they decide to sample the menu, they will have a hard time hanging on to the tiny perches.

Niger thistle is a Finch favorite but also entices native sparrows, Mourning Doves, and the Pine Siskin. Most specialty bird shops offer it by the pound or in fine-mesh sacks from which only the smaller species can feed.

Adding suet to the menu is where things get a bit trickier. Suet and peanuts are starling favorites, but for Nuthatches, Chickadees and Bushtits it can be critical to their survival, especially in winter. Traditionally suet was offered in an open suet cage or nylon mesh, which starlings easily cling to. Instead look for an upside down suet feeder: basically a plastic or wooden roof atop a wire cage. The smaller natives will easily hang upside down to pick at the suet, while the heavier and clumsier starling will be forced to forage on the ground for bits dropped accidentally.

If you’re on a budget, but would like to offer suet, try this: You’ll need a nylon mesh bag from a package of fresh produce (for example a sack of onions), an empty plastic container of any kind (margarine, yogurt, etc.), and a chunk of suet from the meat department. (You might have to ask the butcher.)

Place the suet in the plastic container and turn it upside down in the mesh bag. Knot it or twist-tie it at the top and hang it out. You can also create your own delicacies by melting the suet over low heat and adding no-salt no-sugar chunky peanut butter (approx. 1:1 ratio). When the suet and peanut butter are well mixed, add cornmeal, unsalted peanuts or sunflower kernels and stir well. Fill the plastic container with the mixture and place it in the refrigerator until it hardens. When it’s time to hang it outside, leave it in the container and hang it upside down.

For more information on nest boxes or if you would like to participate in a monitoring project, check out Cornell’s Birdhouse Network at www.birds.cornell.edu/birdhouse.

The starling is not federally protected, and our natives across North America are fighting a losing battle. Closing up openings on your property, offering nesting sites for natives, and practicing selective feeding methods will help ensure a future for beautiful natives. If you find a baby starling or an injured adult bird, leave it be. Of all the myriad species of bird, the starling is the least in need of our help.