A murmuration of starlings

Moments of beauty, wonder and awe in 2024. What were yours?

A beautiful illustration of a starling and a murmuration by Harry Brockway in The Almanac 2022 by Lia Leendertz

Hello you,

I’ve seen some lovely end of year reflection prompts floating around like this one from

Suzy Walker

; What moments of beauty, kindness, or wonder stood out to you this year?

Witnessing a starling murmuration has been on my ‘I wish’ list for a long while. Since before I’d discovered my love of birding.

Murmuration.

Sounds mythical, doesn’t it? Evokes an incantation or a sound you can’t fully understand.

Before I even knew what a starling was, I had pictured it. The almost inconceivable spectacle of thousands of birds creating moving orbs and animated shapes across a bare sky.

It only occurs to me now as I write this how this desire came about. My vague notion that I’d seen a murmuration on a TV advert was correct. Though this 2006 ad never got me hooked on Carling, it did apparently, plant the seed of Starling.

Could this be real? Surely only CGI could create such a phenomenon. Surely thousands of birds would not know how to commune to create a beating heart, a colour changing oval or an undulating wave across the sky?

The only way to know for sure would be to see it for myself.

I remember sharing my wish with my Mum years ago, committing to one day traveling to a wild corner, in the hope of seeing such a display.

Now with my greater bird knowledge, it turns out I don’t need to travel afar.

Blackpool pier and Leighton Moss nature reserve are both famed for starling displays and both are less than an hour from home. I visited last year with hope in my heart. I certainly wasn’t disappointed by the numbers. Holy moly I have never seen so many creatures together in one place. (My friend said it felt biblical. “It’s giving…plague”) But, the birds didn’t quite do the murmuration display.

Whilst it was spectacular, I still hadn’t corroborated with my own eyes, the spectacle I’d seen on screen. Shapes moving and beating across the sky.

Our birding spot at Brockholes on a grey December at dusk by the bird hide and the water

Then last week, we popped by one of closest reserves, Brockholes, en route to somewhere else. When we clocked how empty the water looked we mentioned turning back. But we decided to walk around anyway and enjoy the chilly stroll, reminding ourselves that birding isn’t always about the WOW and the new sightings. Sometimes it’s about appreciating and enjoying the beauty of the common.

Low expectations.

“Look!” I said a little later, pointing at a tiny, sporadic group of seven starlings cavorting above us. “Go and get your friends!”

With the temperature dropping and somewhere to be, we started to think about heading back. But something prevented us from rushing. Maybe it was the swans, the gadwalls, the cormorants and lapwings (we'd been wrong that the lake was empty!) Just a few more minutes with them before stepping back into the rush of life.

A handful more starlings arrived.

Then another and another. Until there was a messy flock of fifty or so teasing us.

Gradually, the group swelled.

“Ooh look. You could almost say that’s a murmuration!” I was putting my wish out into the sky like a child.

Every time another clump of birds arrived, I’d smile and point. Making a joke of it.

Until…it was no longer a wish or a joke. The mess of full stops in the sky had become hundreds-strong.

Shoulder to shoulder with my love, I was witnessing my wish. Starlings cascading, whirling, forming, moving across the light grey sky.

A real, live murmuration.

“Scientists have discovered that each bird in the murmuration tracks the seven birds closest to it and copies their movements, and this is why we see a sort of ripple of movement through them,” writes

Lia Leendertz

in her 2022 edition of The Almanac (treasure I found in a charity shop this week).

I’ve written before about how rare such ‘awe’ moments can be in adult life compared to childhood. So when they arrive with no planning and expectation, they really are gifts. Reminders of hope.

Awe, wonder and mystery. We still don’t really know why the starlings behave in this way. Some say it’s to keep warm. Some say it’s to protect against predators - impossible to catch an individual bird when there’s such strength in numbers.

For now I’m appreciating the wonder of it. Grateful for the gift of awe in 2024.

If you’d like to, please share one of your 2024 ‘wonder and awe’ moments in the comments.

Thanks SO much and I’m wishing you a nourishing end of year,

Janelle x

P.S Birds of Gaza

I recently came across this incredibly moving project called Birds of Gaza. A UK-based “community art project for children to craft unique birds to remember every child killed in Israel's war on Gaza. Through the power of collective art we're highlighting the atrocities that have led to over 6,500 children (and counting) being mercilessly killed.”

You can view the gallery of birds here and read the name and age of the child each individual bird has been created in memory of.

Maybe you might like to create your own.

“I wish children didn't die. I wish they would be temporarily elevated to the skies until the war ends. Then they would return home safe, and when their parents would ask them: "where were you?", they would say: "we were playing in the clouds"

Ghassan Kanafani