Steven W. Starling

On many of my walks through the Medical Facilities on the University of Utah Campus, this little starling is commonly at his morning station, in a tree just outside the window of a trans-building walk way.

The starling is always alone and always in the same pose on nearly the exact same branch each time. He positions himself with his back towards the glass through which I observe him; although sometimes, I do observe him seeking a peek back over his wing at me. Otherwise he makes no indication that my presence is wanted or unwanted, needed or unneeded, or that it even matters in the least bit at all.

No, I sense instead a greater cause pursued by my determined friend. A cause of which I am not aware. A cause very few, feathered or not, are aware. A cause that he, the lone starling in the tree, solely harbors within; a cause whos burden he solely bares.

The large tree in which he perches grows within a campus plaza. It reaches high, achieveing upwards of four or five stories. He perches about even with the third floor, which is the same floor as the walkway, and angles his body up towards the sky. The sky that is made of the small patch of open air visible only through the keyhole five to six stories above the benches and pathways formed by the buildings that encirlce the student open-air square.

The Starling's eyes are concentrated high, way up and above the enclave over which he presides. His eyes are not fixed but are, however, dedicated to the search, to the endevour in which he finds himself engaged. Relentlessness and unyeilding to any outside influence; his eyes remain always peering up.

I wonder, sometimes, what exactly is his endeavor; his cause? What is it that he sees, that he watches, or that he awaits? Is it the breaking of dawn upon the Plaza? I cannot recall ever seeing him outside of the morning hours, just before the golden rays of the sun pierce the cold and dark shadows of the buildings.

Is he watching for food to be found by other birds; waiting for the call of breakfast to sound? His deep pensive stance suggests that his cuase is greater than that and I would think that a bird such as he seemes to be would be well aware of the saying "the early bird gets the worm". Therefore, he would not be just sitting and waiting. Nor does he seem to be the type to depend on the toil of others for his essential needs. He would be more of the type that would help others.

Perhaps he is just waiting for something? Something defined and expected or mabe just the undetermined future and the unknown that it brings with it. I do not know. Whatever he is doing, however, he is intent on doing it.

I don't always stop. I do have things to do myself and contemplating the motives of a starling, as noble as they might be, is not always available or capitvating within the duties of my human world. I do always extend a quiet hello and good bye as I pass by and see Steven W. Starling- as I have come to call him- on his branch. The volume of the greeting absolutely dependent on the presence or lack of presence of others within ear shot, as one could imagine. Regardless, I am just trying to be friendly. I never do anything to try to break his concentration or catch his attention, not that I think he would give it to me anyway.

Steven W. Starling, I believe, is a thinker. Not just in bird terms either, but a real genuine thinker. I think he thinks of the world, of flight, of the purpose of life and perhaps why the sky turns from black to blue with the rising of the sun. Being a bird, I am sure he eventually gives in to the needs and rigors of forging a life, but all in order to resume the next day with self-reflection. It would be foolish to dally upon what all he ponders, but I am convinced he does and he does it a lot. I believe he looks at the sky and he sees the possibilities. He contemplates his qualities and inadequacies, constantly negotiating the two in his head. And he thinks.

I am sure, that like most things in this life, one day Steven will no longer be there. His mystery will become unlocked, his opportunity will be presented and being well prepared, Steven W. Starling will move on to whereever it is that patient avian ponderers go.

I hope that sometime before that happens, he notcied my dedication in passing and noticing him and his efforts, that he appreciated the kind words each moring, and that he hopes the best for me as I do for him.