A group of starlings is called a chattering. Makes sense. They can be super noisy. Especially at dawn. Dusk too. They can be called a murmuration too which I had heard of especially in flight. But also a cloud, clutter, congregation, constellation, filth, scourge or vulgarity. A vulgarity! I love a constellation because of the name itself—starling. Which I also love. Indeed I love starlings—beautiful. Apparently they’re a nuisance bird and loathed by farmers. A chattering of them at the bird feeders and the birdbath yesterday morning. Somehow it’s a sign of fall to me, to see them gather like that. Or of spring. They’re here all summer but it seems to be those two times of the year when I notice them most, tons of them on lawns or at my feeders. I stood and watched them for at least 15 minutes. Their head feathers electric blue and shimmering in the morning light. The white ring around their eyes giving them an alert, no nonsense gaze. And their attitude too! Right down to the business of eating, all of them, no skittish looking around, scouting the area out beforehand. Marching through the birdbath, splashing water everywhere. They hopped onto the front railings, beaks prised open with a tiny round seed. Cocked their heads. Ever curious. Then together in an orchestrated black swoosh, they flew up and off. I felt honoured and somehow humbled. Before I investigated what their gathering names were, I called them an enchantment. An enchantment of starlings. Because they enchanted me despite their boisterous ways. Or perhaps because of them. I admired their boldness, their confidence, bolstered by their numbers perhaps but I suspected that was just their way too. When they flew away, the ever-present, comforting sparrows arrived and hopped and chirped, scattered and skittish. A squirrel balanced on the edge of the birdbath to drink. No sign that the starlings had ever been there, not a single electric blue or glossy black feather. Only a lot less food, less water in the birdbath. And the memory of them emblazoned on my heart. Day 253 #365daysofsybwriting #365daysofhaiku Twenty starlings feed glossy feathers black and blue bold start to the day Day 10 Effy’s Blogalong
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I love the collective names for things. They fascinate me. Right now I can hear a blackbird outside my window (it's 9am on Saturday here) I wander what their collective is. Last night we had owls, there were quite a few so we had a Parliament. That is one that really makes me laugh. A Parliament of wise owls. Unfortunately our parliament are anything but wise lately, but that another conversation ha ha
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Susan Renshaw
9/11/2021 06:05:43 am
I used to love to see the starlings. They would often congregate in Mum and Dad's garden = then for a few years in not so many numbers. Here in Oz I think they are a different variety...
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9/11/2021 02:56:21 pm
We have them here too. They are delightful to watch. Though, they do make their nests in the most inopportune places (like the 5th wheel hitch or under the AC cover on the motorhome.) I've seen their murmuration from a distance and it is quite something to watch.
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AuthorWelcome! I'm Sue Blott: a writer of all things, a poet at heart, mom, wife, daughter, step-mom, grandma, tea drinker, tai chi-er, mystic, artist, dreamer...and now a blogger! This is my world. Categories |