Blog Post: Murmuration

[From Our Blog]

New blog post by Rachel McCarron

Murmuration

Blackpool has a long tourist season that runs from Easter to Christmas each year, but the biggest seaside spectacular takes place throughout the winter months when the attractions are all closed. It’s awesome, and it’s free.

They arrive in batches of hundreds and thousands like clouds of dust above our heads. They come from the parks and gardens of nearby towns to congregate in their millions at the North Pier just before sunset. Here they swoop and dive in coordinated plumes of black against the pinkblueorange of the sky.

As the red sun plinks like an alka seltzer into the shining mercury of the Irish Sea, they fool us into thinking they’ve settled down. Then they rise again as one to dance above the water for a few minutes more.

It’s freezing cold, we should get going, but we are spellbound until the last of the daylight fades. At last, the great shape-shifting cloud funnels from the sky to the boards of the pier. Settled now, they will roost here for the night and return to their urban garden habitats in the morning.

‘Closed for Winter’ reads the sign on the gates to the pier. This translates as ‘Open for Starlings’ – birds as fascinating individually as they are en masse.

They murmurate, but they don’t murmur. These are noisy birds. Intelligent and adept at mimicry.

Legend has it that Mozart kept a pet starling. He taught it musical phrases which were repeated back to him in variations that he employed in his compositions.

This evening’s display was particularly marvellous. Sean kicked himself for not bringing his camera. But there’s something to be said for enjoying the view without a lens in the way.

Sean’s pictures here, from a different day, don’t fully do it justice, so if you’re ever at a loose end in the Northwest of England on a winter afternoon, come and see for yourself.



Photo credits: Sean Breadin
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[mickleinapickle]

Fascinating blog content. I normally think of starling murmurations as happening on the south coast of England, but they obviously do the same 'up north'. Some fish swarm in a similar way, though do it silently... other senses stop them from bumping into each other. Apparently, some insects and bacteria also 'murmurate'. A scary thought when you realise the bacteria also includes pathogens. Enjoyed the read! You've got me thunking about it all.

 

[Katie-Ellen]

New blog post by Rachel McCarron

Murmuration

Blackpool has a long tourist season that runs from Easter to Christmas each year, but the biggest seaside spectacular takes place throughout the winter months when the attractions are all closed. It’s awesome, and it’s free.

They arrive in batches of hundreds and thousands like clouds of dust above our heads. They come from the parks and gardens of nearby towns to congregate in their millions at the North Pier just before sunset. Here they swoop and dive in coordinated plumes of black against the pinkblueorange of the sky.

As the red sun plinks like an alka seltzer into the shining mercury of the Irish Sea, they fool us into thinking they’ve settled down. Then they rise again as one to dance above the water for a few minutes more.

It’s freezing cold, we should get going, but we are spellbound until the last of the daylight fades. At last, the great shape-shifting cloud funnels from the sky to the boards of the pier. Settled now, they will roost here for the night and return to their urban garden habitats in the morning.

‘Closed for Winter’ reads the sign on the gates to the pier. This translates as ‘Open for Starlings’ – birds as fascinating individually as they are en masse.

They murmurate, but they don’t murmur. These are noisy birds. Intelligent and adept at mimicry.

Legend has it that Mozart kept a pet starling. He taught it musical phrases which were repeated back to him in variations that he employed in his compositions.

This evening’s display was particularly marvellous. Sean kicked himself for not bringing his camera. But there’s something to be said for enjoying the view without a lens in the way.

Sean’s pictures here, from a different day, don’t fully do it justice, so if you’re ever at a loose end in the Northwest of England on a winter afternoon, come and see for yourself.



Photo credits: Sean Breadin
---

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This is great, Rachel. And I saw them myself just the other day, Rachel, heading on an errand along that largely deserted seafront. Furness in silhouette the far side. Fantastic spectacle.

 

[Claire G]

Wonderful post! Love the pics and your vivid descriptions xx

 

[Hannah F]

Love starlings! They come to my feeders in iridescent groups. They chatter and sing and beak-click. And, yes, up in Scotland they murmurate too.

 

[Katie-Ellen]

This has reminded me, found this old one in my writing folder


Starlings


Coding twilight

Ink-mark

Stamping

Calligraphic

Wing-beat

Sacred prose

In sonic flight

Katie-Ellen Hazeldine

 

[Nance]

New blog post by Rachel McCarron

Murmuration

Blackpool has a long tourist season that runs from Easter to Christmas each year, but the biggest seaside spectacular takes place throughout the winter months when the attractions are all closed. It’s awesome, and it’s free.

They arrive in batches of hundreds and thousands like clouds of dust above our heads. They come from the parks and gardens of nearby towns to congregate in their millions at the North Pier just before sunset. Here they swoop and dive in coordinated plumes of black against the pinkblueorange of the sky.

As the red sun plinks like an alka seltzer into the shining mercury of the Irish Sea, they fool us into thinking they’ve settled down. Then they rise again as one to dance above the water for a few minutes more.

It’s freezing cold, we should get going, but we are spellbound until the last of the daylight fades. At last, the great shape-shifting cloud funnels from the sky to the boards of the pier. Settled now, they will roost here for the night and return to their urban garden habitats in the morning.

‘Closed for Winter’ reads the sign on the gates to the pier. This translates as ‘Open for Starlings’ – birds as fascinating individually as they are en masse.

They murmurate, but they don’t murmur. These are noisy birds. Intelligent and adept at mimicry.

Legend has it that Mozart kept a pet starling. He taught it musical phrases which were repeated back to him in variations that he employed in his compositions.

This evening’s display was particularly marvellous. Sean kicked himself for not bringing his camera. But there’s something to be said for enjoying the view without a lens in the way.

Sean’s pictures here, from a different day, don’t fully do it justice, so if you’re ever at a loose end in the Northwest of England on a winter afternoon, come and see for yourself.



Photo credits: Sean Breadin
---

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There is something so magical and miraculous about this dance. I was fortunate enough once to have a commute home that included waiting at a very long traffic light. In winter there was a nightly murmuration. Some of us looked up and saw it. A regular miracle. What's better than that? Loved your post.

 

[Mel L]

Murmurations are moving, both literally and figuratively. I was in the city of Lyon last weekend and there were clouds of them in the sky. The noise was terrifying bouncing off the urban landscape of apartment buildings and I wondered how it must be to live with them in the city. Surely not their natural habitat. Blackpool sounds brilliant.