A Murmuration of Humans

I’ve just come back from watching a murmuration of starlings over Cromwell Road, Whitstable. “Murmuration” is the collective noun for a flight of Starlings. Starlings don’t flock, they murmur. It’s an odd word to have chosen, since what they actually do looks more like reciting poetry than murmuring. They cut, they weave, they parry, they thrust, they wheel about in the air forming immense patterns of startling complexity. They shimmer, they switch, they swirl. They swoop, they dive. They split and then reform. It’s like a vast aerial dance of hypnotic precision in which the individual starlings come together to … Continue reading A Murmuration of Humans