#murmuration

I mention starlings quite often, either as a the bird itself or the collective noun (murmeration).

The murmeration itself is incredible - these hundreds, if not thousands of birds flying in unison like sand kicked up by the surf, playing at being clouds in the sky. The word itself feels like a visual onomatopoeia, with the way the murmeration ebbs and flows back and forth with the gentle murmur of an unheard hum.

In art I've seen the word twice: in Ben Osborn's "A Bridge Of Starlings", and the Narcissist Cookbook's "Story 6/A Choir of One". In Osborn's song he writes "Outside the main station/I saw a small murmeration/Living on pastry crumbs"; the idea of something huge like the titular Bridge being built from the starving scraps of ideas resonates with me somehow. Matt's story uses the word to describe the interweaving melody of a choir, which is accurate. Well done Matt.

The bird itself, black with specks of white, reminds me of the mountains of north Wales, dark with heather with hard chunks of granite jutting through the slopes like tombstones, or like the night sky when all the lights are gone. The bird has a perfectly ordinary appearance, yet I have always found a fascinating beauty in the ordinary.

Unrelated, but one of the best responses I've gotten on youraislopbores.me was saying the collective noun for starlings is "a constellation".

As a young child the murmerations always fascinates me, and I would stare out of my window entranced by the shifting shapes against the mundane white backdrop of the British sky.

Brighton Palace Pier The last time we shot from the Palace Pier and thought we’d be closer at the Doughnut (Afloat). This time we shot from the Doughnut and wondered if we wouldn’t have been better at the Palace Pier. Or, perhaps, the best view was had by the swimmers in the frigid waters.

English Channel, Brighton Murmuration over the West Pier and an in-camera panorama from the sun going down to West Pier