I’ve just posted a Black Country dialect version of this on my Black Country page, but I can’t help chuckling at the memory and decided to put a standard English version out, too. A murmuration of starlings is a wonderful sight, and there are some stunning photographs on this site.
Those starlings!
Making a racket and clatter
While they’re settling in for the night.
When we were kids we’d make them scatter
Clapping our hands suddenly
And in fright
They’d rise up like a cloud and fly
In a big whirly swirly pattern,
A million dots filling the sky.
I’d forgotten all that.
You don’t see them so much today.
But just now I heard them chatter
As I was coming through the park.
There was nobody in sight
So I clapped my hands and made them scatter,
Just for devilment.
Then I saw I wasn’t alone after all:
There was a little kid on a swing, staring at me –
Wondering what was the matter!
We don’t care much for starlings, either. They always fly in and take over the bird feeders. Clapping seems to be a good way to get rid of them.
I think they still come back to the same spot to roost, though. I was still thrilled to see the murmuration (though “murmur” is hardly the word I’d have used to describe their raucous squawking!)
I agree. It is amazing to watch them twist and turn as they fly together!
Wünsche dir eine glückliche schöne Woche alles liebe für dich Gislinde
Hello! I really enjoy your blog, and I’ve nominated you for The Virtual Blog Tour Award.
http://wp.me/p54xZT-CC
Thank you very much – it’s a long time since I was nominated for any awards. I’ll check it out.
I love those moments. Years ago, on the London underground, there was a mother and boy sitting opposite me, and a man swaying back and forth by the doors in a slightly strange manner. No one else was in the carriage. When the doors opened the man almost swung on the overhead rail and bolted out of the door. The boy caught my eye and we both started giggling an wheezing for no reason while his mother, who was about my age, looked on in icy disapproval. That was the moment when I realised I would never mature. I loved your story because, as you can see, I might well have done that myself
I can identify with that, too! I think this works better in dialect.
Wonderful, we are watching and being watched by the natural world always!🌿🌿