There is great excitement in the neighbourhood. It doesn’t take much because very little happens in these parts. But something is definitely stirring and it’s our local starling population. They’re treating us to a fabulous display most evenings. Social media is awash with images of thousands of birds all swooping, looping and diving together. I have always wanted to see one of these murmurations and thought it would involve lurking in damp fields for hours, with no guarantee of seeing anything. And now I have witnessed several without even leaving home.
It is truly exciting to see them, especially when they fly directly right over you, darkening the sky. I am grateful that they put on such a show, but when I think how much of our bird food they eat, it’s really the least they can do. They descend en masse (naturally), shove all the other birds away, fight among themselves and quickly empty the feeder. They’re also very clever at playing the system. Our feeder is designed for small birds only and heavy birds that sit on the perch are supposed to make the trap door close. These wily birds quickly realised that if they balanced most of their weight to one side, then they’d reduce the weight on the perch, keeping the trap door open. Perhaps birds have bigger brains than we give them credit for.
I gather that many of the starlings won’t be around much longer – they’ll be off to even cooler places come March. I can’t imagine why any creature would actually choose to over-winter here. I don’t think it’s stopped raining since Christmas. If I were a starling, once the excitement of Christmas was over, I’d head off to spend the rest of the winter in Morocco.
I obviously lack the natural instincts of a true birder. A few weeks ago, the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds asked birdwatchers to spend an hour counting the birds in their gardens or local park, but I completely misunderstood the instructions. We were asked to count the number of birds that we saw landing at any one time. I dutifully spent an hour counting all the birds, by variety. Unsurprisingly, we had more starlings than anything else and I came up with a grand total of 77 over the hour. When I entered the numbers online, the website was politely surprised that I had recorded so many, when the average for my area was 5. I realised in a flash that I was only supposed to count the maximum I saw at any one time, rather than over the entire hour. The people collating the results must roll their eyes at the public’s inability to follow simple instructions.
Undeterred, I am planning to keep birdwatching in my own lackadaisical way. Seeing a charm of finches is my next goal. I’m not entirely sure what one is, but it sounds delightful. Or perhaps it’s just the title of an Agatha Christie novel?
I agree — murmurations are fascinating to watch. Do you remember the one(s) we saw at the hotel near Coba in Mexico? I think they might have been starlings, too.