Starlinggrad Fallen?

The early evening spectacle, that was accumulating winter Starlings over St Stephen's Street (Norwich), appears to have taken something of a hit! Maybe others have been witness to the cause, but I can only speculate. Maybe one of the local Peregrines, perhaps a robust attempt by more determined female Sparrowhawk?

Either way, the murmuration above the city has shifted, splintered and depleted somewhat, from its winter maximum. I had earlier attempted to approximate the flock size, at around 6-8,000 birds, but readily admit to being unsure, despite actually resorting to counting a section of one of the many taken photographs.



Speculating upon numbers has now become even more problematic, as one is never entirely sure as to where the now roving splinters are to be found. They float and twist, and stretch racing out across the rooftops, occasionally briefly unifying, before again tugging apart in their uncertain ballet, set upon the deepening ultramarine canvass. But, as the blue dips in search of an ever deeper shade, the final mass is undoubtedly less than it once was.



I first witnessed this shift on Tuesday afternoon (23rd February), at around 17:30. The heavens swept low above the city, as a substantial ripple tore free from the centre to writhe, as if panicked, beyond the city walls. As the undulating ribbon dipped above my head a sound, not unlike shifting sands, filled the air. I likened the frantic trail to  an explosion of bats I'd once witnessed exiting a cave.



Rapidly the fraying tail was sucked, whipping behind the old hospital block, from where it was immediately lost to view, only to return further to the south several minutes later. Although less weighted, the smaller gathering was all the more spectacular by virtue of appearing so indecisive! 'Twas almost as if infighting was causing different factions to vie for supremacy. The coiling rope would loop across the sky, then twist back upon itself, weaving its numbers into ever more complex knots, before snapping and tearing asunder. Centrifugally, splinters were apparently abandoning the core, flapping hurriedly towards somewhere, anywhere else! The bulk contracted to a leaden blot, shimmered and then spilled out across the evening like a gossamer thin blanket, appearing to almost dissolve into the aether, before reconfiguring again and again, and again...



With good vantage, but limited peripheral vision, I was able to detect at least three distinct groups, dancing across the skies. There may well have been more. At one point I was given to speculate whether the increased activity had perhaps drawn in smaller murmurations from further afield. Maybe it was the apparent agitation, maybe the far more varied patterning, maybe the splintering, but I reasoned that there could just briefly have been even more! Or maybe I just wanted it to be so?



The late afternoon pre-roost show is still performing for the early evening shoppers and returning workers, but numbers are, I think, in gradual decline. And Spring is fast approaching!