The…starling bursts into song. It rattles like a shaken can of spray paint, then modulates through a wolf whistle, a screech, the woof of a bulldog, and a cardinal’s liquid phrase. But this composite song arrives through a blur of distortion, dust on the phonograph needle. Though the sources are recognizable, it couldn’t fool anyone. …

I don’t care how you feel about starlings (frankly, I love them, although I recognize the problems they cause), you have to love this appreciation.
Murmurations | Orion Magazine