Bump

You know when you think you've spotted one, don't you?  When you're almost certain. Even without checking.

They're distinctly rarer than the thousands of starlings filling the sky. Far, far more unique. In the flesh, that is.

I had the benefit of arriving last. Without a dog to give me away. And I stayed in the car for a while, incognito. (Actually, it was mighty chilly!) But I watched and wondered.

Just when the first thousand or so birds arrived, when they were distracted properly, that's when I made my move. I crept out of the car and sidled up behind the one I'd singled out.  I hadn't made a full ID but there was just something about the way they held their cameras, interacted, looked approachable and, well, friendly, that made me fairly certain.

So I posed the question when their backs were turned:

"Are you blippers by any chance?"

[Sheepish snigger]

That's when I knew I'd caught one.

Sure enough, I had the lovely opportunity of meeting two fine blippers, Hazelina and Gladders, who were out to see the starling murmuration display that ITTH has been generously sharing. An unintentional BumpBlipMeet but, nevertheless, really lovely to put a face to the journals.

I was browsing Blip earlier today and realised the murmuration was going on en route to the Lakes where I was meeting Dad for dinner. It was supposed to be a day out in the hills together but, with my hip playing up walking, it was the 70+ year old that was dancing up and round Skiddaw not his less than sprightly daughter!

I wasn't sure if I'd make it in time as I was timing leaving Little Dog just long enough for Rich's arrival home. When I arrived, H and G were watching 15 starlings and the sun had gone. I questioned whether I'd missed it but the blippers were going nowhere so I was hopeful. And waited.

And then they arrived.
In bigger and bigger groups.

The murmuration was a complete delight in the clear setting sky and I'm sure, far bigger than the one I saw in Silverdale a few years ago.

It feels like you're watching a soundwave pulse through the air. Beats and pauses and long drawn out tones as the group expands and contracts and grows as another few thousand join the spectacle. Nothing sharp; every note has a curving echo or a twist. A spiral, a bounce or a flowing trail. It leaves you with a fine glowing feeling rather than an image.

I had my hood up, not wanting to meet Dad for dinner with starling streaks adding to my silvering hair and did have a few white flybys in front of the lens!  The gloves I'd taken out of my pocket ready, I'd left in the car but I wasn't going back now. The performance lasted about 20 minutes as the murmuring went on about who they were going to sit next to for the night. Can't be easy an easy decision when you're all shiny black and speckled and every branch looks the same!

It was much easier for me. I met Dad on the sofas and we've enjoyed a lovely evening sharing more stories, wonderful food, more time together. And I enjoyed in particular, hearing the epic ascent of Ullock Pike and Skiddaw.

Go. Dad!