Murmur has it.

Not the mothership.

As the dusk cast it's last shadows of the day, once again you shared your secrets.

It began with the arrival of small parties of birds, some from the east, but mainly from the west. Gradually a few groups started to gravitate together, forming a drifting  cloud. Others took the opportunity for last a feed of leatherjackets on the grassy banks of the lake. Occasionally the main group swirled. This was turning out to be a lovely end to the day. Then as if re-enacting the final scenes from Close Encounters  the mothership appeared from nowhere, thousands upon thousands of birds filled the sky. If I was trendy I would write something like 'totally awesome man', but I'm not so I'll have to put up with wow!

I have no idea how birds were involved, it didn't really matter. The mass drifted over the roosting site, waiting for the right moment to drop in. Something stirred and they moved like a Mexican wave, a peregrine smashed through them causing chaos. Suddenly the sky was full of shapes, each twitch of a wing by the leading bird causing a dramatic ripple. We ticked them off: mushroom, lapwing, lady in a hat, sumo wrestler, sphinx, helter-skelter and two things that I couldn't possibly describe on this page. The spectacle continued, until when on a given signal they funnelled at speed into the trees and reeds, leaving the sky a blank canvas once again. Wow indeed!

We had only popped in on Blashford to see a bittern - how 'so yesterday'  can a bird become.

'We're so last week darling'.