Starlings

In Washington each autumn great swarms of dark, destructive birds called starlings settle in the sycamore trees along Pennsylvania Avenue, annoy Congressmen and other citizens by chattering, committing nuisances. Only defense the Washington authorities have figured out is to annoy the starlings in turn. Last year they tried stinkpots. To these, Congressmen proved more sensitive than starlings. This year, with plenty of Federal relief funds available, Clifford Lanham, Superintendent of Trees & Parking, decided on a thoroughgoing mechanical job of starling-annoying.

Up 50 trees along the Avenue one chill evening last week climbed 50 relief workers. Each one was armed with a long pole, a tin can partly filled with pebbles, a promise of six hours work each night at 40-c- per hr. "If there's anything the starlings hate," gloated Superintendent Lanham, "it's the rumpus and clatter of the cans. They'll flee for dear life." Setting up a frightful din, the workers rattled and poked. As predicted, the starlings fled--to the eaves and cornices of nearby buildings, where they resumed their own annoying chatter. Superintendent Lanham was not baffled. First windless night he planned to send out a squad of men armed with large, hydrogen-filled balloons on long strings. These would scare the starlings off the buildings, back into the trees. There his tin-can brigade could rout them back to the buildings. If he kept that up long enough, possibly the starlings' spirits would break.

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