A - Z Challenge - M: Murmuration

We went to see a murmuration of starlings. You know, the thing where a vast number of starlings collect in the air in one place and swoop and dance about in wonderful formation at dusk before settling to roost in trees? Also known as flocking (but that doesn't begin with M). Well, we went to see one.

A good friend of ours, a lifelong birdwatcher, nature lover, tree expert and all-round knowledgeable soul had good intel that starlings were doing their thing at this particular location at this particular time, and so we layered up well, laced up the walking boots (well, laced up the boots first in my case as I'm finding that it's increasingly difficult to reach my boots when I'm bundled up) and we climbed in the car full of expectation. 

We were there, but the starlings turned out not to be. Actually, that's not true - a few turned up ('Oh look! Here they are!') but were clearly either lost or discouraged by the absence of the Main Flock and went to bed early, and unspectacularly. Just enough to cause a short-lived ripple of excitement. 

Or not.

We stood in a field  in the Derbyshire countryside at dusk, on a February evening, in barely above zero degrees with only half a bag of mint imperials between us for sustenance, and the birds didn't show up. But you know what? It was fun. 

We walked up and down a bit. We stamped our feet and fumbled with mint imperials in thick gloves. We discussed which trees were which and saw a rabbit (or was it a hare? No, it was a biggish rabbit). We made up stories about abandoned farm buildings and secret drug rings and us on a hillside with binoculars.   We found a camera lens cap on the ground and decided it was definitely encouraging evidence that we were in the right place. We shared ideas about what we would do if we decided to do One New Thing each month that we had never done before. We chatted briefly with a fellow murmuration-hopeful who had seen a wondrous display only days previously! It was marvellous! Bad luck that when we turn out they have a day off. 

We trudged back down the path while we could no longer feel our feet and I did my best to climb into the car with knees that didn't want to bend, without muddying the white upholstery. Apparently the front seats are heated, but my husband had bagged the passenger seat. Still, I had the 'perials*. 

Home before we knew it and our friend was apologetic that it had been a wasted trip. But it hadn't been. 

We did something different. Speaking of 'One New Thing', I've never been to look at a murmuration before though I've seen them on Countryfile and often said that it's something I'd like to do. I'd like to see a murmuration one day. Maybe to see one you have to go and not see one quite a few times first. I gather it's bit like that in the birdwatching world**. 

We spent a happy couple of hours doing something. The last few years have been pretty awful and we haven't really done very much, so it was unusual. It was good to look outside for a while - outside ourselves and physically outside, despite the cold and the mud and the barren, bird-free landscape. It may not have been much but it was something, and something is better than nothing, and it's been nothing for quite some time. 

So I call that a win. 

*    When I was a kid, I thought these little round sweets that my mum always had (to aid digestion) were called Mintim Perials. So in our house they are still 'perials. 

**  Though my very limited experience of birdwatching has been different. When I was 17 I went out with a keen birdwatcher who invited me to come with him to look for nightjars in Clumber Park. (This was with the local chapter of the birdwatching society of which he was a member, before you see euphemisms everywhere.) We went, we sat in some bushes for hours on end and yes, a nightjar gamely turned up. It was summer, so not cold. Job done! Did it give me a taste for birdwatching? No.