Letter of Recommendation Feb. 11, 2020 Each day along the upper railings of my top-floor Brooklyn apartment’s fire escape, starlings alight and start holding forth in an ever-evolving chorus of clown whistles, clicks and shards of expert mimicry. I’ve heard everything from them over the years: other bird calls, human voices, car horns, jackhammers, backup beeps, snippets of ice-cream-truck jingle.