And she celebrated the sighting in the traditional way.
The Starlings were in the trees again, all singing at once. I decided not to be anxious about the grapes this time, and enjoy the music while hanging out the washing. I pulled out my phone to snap the dozen or so on next-door’s roof and aerial only to see the whole group rise into the sky and away, exchanging their song for the murmuration of their wings.
The phone’s memory was not fast enough to take in the different shapes the flock took as they gathered themselves for their flight to the fields to forage for seeds and insects, slugs and worms.
I’ll want some grapes for the Harvest Festival next Sunday, so I’ll still be a little anxious …
It was late morning when Mrs T called me into the garden. ‘What is the matter with the birds?’ she asked. Ever the pessimist, I suggested that they were discussing the grapes on our fence, which are approaching ripeness and becoming sweeter by the day. A few days’ sunshine this week has helped, I’m sure.
Clapping my hands did nothing to disturb the starlings – for it was they who had occupied next-door’s tall birch in numbers. ‘You’re wasting your time,’ said Mrs T, as indeed I was. I doubt they’d have heard much less than a cannon shot.
As I walked out, I realised that they were also mass-murmuring in the first three lime trees along the road into town. I expressed my fears for the grapes to a neighbour, but returned to find the grapes intact. Perhaps they were off the starlings’ radar. A few years ago there were very few locally, and the raids on the grapes were carried out solely by blackbirds. They are not in such numbers, and to be truthful, we have never done much with the grapes. So let’s see what happens.
Other gatherings of birds today: a skein of geese, high, flying North, maybe Brents making for the Swale mudbanks; jackdaws gathering on chimneypots as the light fades, before seeking the shelter of the capped chimney opposite Mrs O’s.
The birds’ sociability is a sign that the year is changing.