Helen Baczkowska, Conservation Officer
This winter, the County Wildlife Site (CWS) nearest my home has
seen a roost of starlings wheeling and flowing across the sky each evening, like
smoke in caught in the wind. An hour or so before sunset, small groups of
starlings wing their way across the winter tree tops, the numbers slowly
growing to several hundred, as more and more groups arrive from the fields and
gardens where they have been feeding. Sometimes small groups break away, dart
off on a circuit of their own, then return to a flock that one moment spreads
out like a streamer, then clusters tightly, constantly twisting and flowing in
forms that never quite resemble any nameable shape. As I watch, the birds shoot
over my head chattering, with a whisper of wings like soft rain.
Starling roost, photo by Brian Macfarlane |
One reason for these circling flypasts, before settling
roost in the reeds of the pond, may be the local sparrow hawk. Scientists
studying the phenomena of starling murmurations think that the flocking and ever-shifting
shapes are largely a response to predation, as targeting one bird out of the
mass becomes impossible. Certainly, the sparrow hawk has tried to fly up out of
the reeds into the flock, or to fly at them from above, but always seems doomed
to failure.
The science of murmurations is incomplete, but researchers
have employed sophisticated video analysis and computer modelling to study how
the birds achieve the spectacular moving sky patterns. To date, the thinking is
that the flock is like a liquid turning to gas, or snow before an avalanche. It
is a system poised to tip, with the movement of every part affecting the whole.
This is a science closer to physics than biology and the evidence seems to be
that each bird reacts to even the smallest movement of the birds closest to
them, this movement rippling rapidly through the flock in groups of seven –
each bird affecting the seven closest to them. Research continues, for the
exact science of how the changes ripple through the flock without accident or
confusion remains a mystery.
Flocks of thousands of starlings are known from large reed
beds around Britain, with notable winter roosts on the East Anglian coast. Many
of the birds will be winter migrants, boosting the numbers of a species that
has suffered a dramatic decline in recent decades; long-term monitoring by the British Trust for Ornithology
(BTO) shows that starling numbers have fallen by 66 per cent in
Britain since the mid-1970s. The roost on the CWS is tiny compared to
some, but it demonstrates the value of even small areas of habitat and is a
reminder that observing the natural world is vital in informing the management
of sites. It would be easy to look at the reed-covered pond as overgrown, but
it is the only local pond suitable for a starling roost. If clearance of the
ponds is considered in the future, retaining some of the reed will mean there
is always a winter roost for the starlings.
Starling in flight, photo by Elizabeth Dack |
As evening grows darker, the starlings circle ever closer to
the reeds, swooping down close, then rising again, until at last, as if on some
unseen signal, they pour into their roost in a single black flow, like dark
liquid through a funnel. At first, they are easily unsettled, fluttering and
chattering amongst themselves, rising uneasily if I walk too close. In the
morning they fill my garden hedge with the fizz and buzz of their song,
reminding me that spring is around the corner and that the flock will soon
disperse - at least until next winter.