Full of anticipation, I scan the horizon, watching for black spots that will signal the start of the murmuration – my first ever. I wait, full of suspense. The ruby-red sun is setting across the lush, green hills. Suddenly, there’s a flood of black in my peripheral vision; they are here, roaring over my head – possibly at over 50mph. A writhing flood of birds sends tidal waves over the tranquil reeds. I look on in awe.
The wind whistles through their wings; the dance of the sky unfolds. The rush, the flutter of feathers, the cries of weary starlings coming down to rest in their tightly packed roosts (as many as 500 birds per cubic metre); the sound is a song of travel and community.
