We’ve had a few generations of starlings nesting in the eaves above the door into my therapy room for a few years now. Like crows, they are a much maligned bird, but I love them. Almost as much as I love crows. I adore them actually – their stunning, iridescent colours, their vocal range, their flying skills, their intelligence. And even though it’s nothing to do with us or our house, I’m always chuffed that they come back to start their family anew. That it’s safe for them to do so here. Despite the regular unintended interruptions as the door opens and closes often, every day, as I welcome clients in, and as they leave. The disruption must be significant as their little nest is shaken and disturbed, each time. Several daily earthquakes.

I think my favourite bit is when the chicks hatch and start making their cute little noises. I’ve learned to open the door gently so that they don’t get a fright and fall silent. I stand listening to them as I sip my coffee. If you’ve ever heard it you’ll recognise it to be such a soothing little sound, like a steady soft purr – and I’ve noticed my cat listening to it too. Although I suspect we have different motives…

A mother and teen duo arrived at this door shortly after this year’s brood hatched, and knocked. The chicks fell silent and the parents swooped down on the unsuspecting pair – squawking and screeching with what I can only describe as abject rage. They were furious. One of them landed on the wall opposite the door and stayed there rigid, feathers standing on end, increasing the bird’s size by at least another half. Mouth held wide open it squawked on and on. The partner perched on the roof, livid.

Fury. In stereo.

My clients jumped. “JESUS what the f*&k!” shrieked the immediately embarrassed mom as a bird suddenly swooped millimeters above her head lifting her hair in its draught… The teen is rigid. Not really knowing what to do or say. Not sure what’s happening. It’s so, so noisy. Looking at me, a little afraid, a little amused my her mom’s language. Wall bird is still screeching at her, feathers on end.

‘It’s Ok’, I attempt a soothe. I had gotten a brief fright myself, and I allowed that be seen. No point hiding anything from a teenager anyway right?

‘Why is the bird so angry?’ asks the teen.

“Well”, I say, “I’m thinking maybe the bird is scared because we’re all so much bigger than her, and while she knows me a bit and is used to me now, she’s never met you before and maybe she thought you were going to hurt her teeny babies who’ve only JUST hatched. She doesn’t know that you’re lovely! So she wants to appear strong and maybe it’s easier for her to get angry in the moment cos she doesn’t really have time to think about the fact that she’s scared, or to think about the fact that maybe we are harmless and don’t actually want to kill her babies.

Maybe her anger is fear in disguise.

So, we don’t have to tell ourselves she hates us, that she’s a mean nasty aggressive bird, or that she wants to harm us. We can just understand that she’s terrified and this is how she’s dealing with it right now. “

Mom and teen transfer a look. I catch it but say nothing. Mom leaves, saying she’ll be back in an hour. And in we go to the silence and calm of my therapy room. We sit and collect ourselves. I notice the teen’s happily amused by her unspoken thoughts as she puts her phone on silence and face down on the floor beside her feet, smiling. I’m curious, and I enquire silently with my eyebrow.

“Oh”, she says, “the bird just explained mom’s road rage to me. I think I might get her an Angry Bird T-shirt for her birthday. That’d be fun…”. And I agree – it would! And it’s also a clever and sweet connection strategy. Fair play. I love the relationship these two have.

Turns out an impatient driver swerved out in front of them at a local road works near my house. The driver was on his phone and seemingly oblivious to the fact that he could have killed them. And you can guess the rest.

Anger so often is fear in disguise. I say it often and here I am, saying it again.

PS: Written with permission and hope that that T-shirt arrives in time for “someone’s” birthday!

PPS: That’s the actual bird. In fairness, isn’t she very, very beautiful?

PPPS: As the birds were screaming down the neighbourhood I was berating myself a little that I forgot again to put a sign up saying “Starlings nesting – they might shout at you!” or similar… But now, after this experience, I think maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing.