Starlings make an awful racket. They start at dusk when coming home to roost. Unfortunately the elm tree was in my front yard in Illinois was that roost. Under the elm tree on the sidewalk and grass, layers of bird droppings reminded us of the floor of a bat cave.
But it was bird squawks and cries that finally got us on the phone with our local Department of Agriculture. They hooked us up with Dave, the bird man.
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