Reminiscing about an evening spent with my family and around three hundred strangers. We made our way to Minsmere, searching for the best vantage point, as if going to a fireworks display. The excitement was palpable, wondering if we were going to be lucky enough to see the spectacle we hoped for.
Gliding effortlessly through the air like a leaf falling from a tree in autumn. Twisting and turning with tiny movements of its wings, twitching feathers and muscles in a spasm of change.
The murmuration moved as one huge cloud, connected together by invisible threads. Diving down, heading for the ground like an airplane out of control, about to crash land. Then in an instant changing their shape into a long stripe of moving darkness in the sky, like an artist’s strokes on a canvas.
Travelling across the sunset sky, over pink and grey, red and black, then up into the clear blue, spreading the dark mist of moving individual birds acting as one.
The sheer beauty of their swooping and whirling with one apparent mind, creates a sense of awe, never known before. Standing, staring unable to look away, gripped as if in terror, tears spring to my eyes, suddenly streaming down my face like a river.
The power and mystery of this display is so breath taking, it’s as if the air around me had disappeared into a vacuum.
Stunned and astounded by the sheer beauty of the occasion, we were speechless for a while, taking in the enormity of the phenomenon, a demonstration of nature’s power and magnificence.
As quickly as it began, the birds disperse, separating themselves as if they are opposite magnets. The flock has disappeared and only a few stragglers remain, flapping their way to their roosts, like drunks leaving the pub at night.
We all trooped back to the car, thoughtful and silent. Reflecting on the scene we had witnessed, feeling a little melancholic, realising how insignificant we are in comparison with Mother nature’s might.