Scott Keys and Daniel Karp profile Eugene Schieffelin, who, as part of his love affair with the Bard, sought to “gather every bird referenced in Shakespeare’s plays and introduce them into the United States”:
What transformed Schieffelin from a mere Shakespeare aficionado to an active fanatic, though, was his membership in the American Acclimatization Society, a New York City group founded with the purpose of importing European plants and animals to the United
States. Bringing birds mentioned in Shakespeare’s plays to American soil was Schieffelin’s personal and public tribute to the Bard. Starlings made a brief appearance in Shakespeare’s work: Act 1, Scene 3 of Henry IV. “Nay, I’ll have a starling shall be taught to speak; Nothing but ‘Mortimer,’ and give it him,” Shakespeare wrote, a single line of script where a soldier is ordered, by the king, never to mention his brother-in-law’s name again, leading the soldier to dream of buying a starling that will repeat the name over and over. Starlings, after all, are incredible mimics, adept at copying everything from other bird songs to car alarms to human beings.
The idea that it could be problematic to introduce a new species into a foreign area was not widely understood at the time. In fact, [How Shakespeare Changed Everything author Stephen] Marche argued, the very notion was reviled. Victorians took great umbrage at the Darwinian concept that nature was cruel, finding it contrary to their religious sensibilities. The belief, therefore, that you could impact – much less hurt – a natural environment by releasing a new bird in it was ludicrous. Until the beginning of the 20th century, there was an Outback Steakhouse approach to ecology: No rules, just right.
Starlings now do an estimated $800 million in crop damage every year.
(Illustration via Andrew Petcher)
The Dish 