As usual
It all starts in silence
A certain tension in the air
The catapult
Locked and loaded
Scouts of ten
Survey the landscape
Circling several times
Their leaving
Belies what happens next
Flocks of one hundred
Two hundred
Move and sway
Perfected unison
Joining and breaking apart
Until finally
One thousand birds
Act as one voice
Singing the evening’s chorus
I am told by experts that it is ok and perhaps necessary for me to hate the European starling and their murmurations. They are “invasive”….although it has been storied that they were brought here purposefully. “They kill off other song birds for territory.” So I must hate them? The answer is so much more complex.
Such is life, no?
Nobody tells me to hate something without a rise of suspicion. Hate answers nothing. It brings no resolution or redemption. Neither is its weight worthy of anyone’s effort. If we close our eyes and fill our pockets with hate and animus should we wonder why we feel empty?
No.
I love the starling’s murmurations.
Photographic Impressionistic Illusionistic 