DJ Sturnus Vulgaris

How many starlings does it take to make a murmuration? The local tribe of these bustling birds swells in number in autumn. The characters I saw squeezing in and out of the gaps in roof tiles during the breeding season cluster like iron filings on the telephone wires. There's a soft swish of wings as the flock takes flight, but the numbers aren't big enough for the spectacular shape-shifting aerial displays the birds are famous for, when thousands of them fret, soar and pulse in synchronicity above their winter roosts. In the Cambridge region murmurations are known at RSPB Fen Drayton and the Cambridge Science Park.

Daddy long-legs lope accident-prone across my walls and ceilings, showing up cobwebs and reverberating inside lampshades. When these craneflies were larvae in 'leather jackets' tucked all over the lawns I got woken up by a huge whoosh and squabble at dawn; the grubs are a favourite food source for starlings. The birds descend on the feast in a scratchy cacophany of chat, bristling and jostling.  They're excitable party birds that really animate my street with a repertoire of blips, squeaks and whistles. They are good mimics and samplers, like techno DJs.

Photo by Jo Sinclair
Whether single or en masse these birds look amazing. Like dirty rainbows of petrol on tarmac (described by Nabokov as 'gasoline's parakeet') starlings have an iridescent sheen that makes them look almost greasy, especially when the displaying males raise their hackle of plumes as they sing a song.
Photo by Jo Sinclair



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