IT’S a wonder of the world – and it can be seen every evening for free in Belfast city centre.
Dúlra spent an hour at Albert Bridge this week to watch the famous ‘murmuration’ at Albert Bridge. It’s here that starlings from around the city gather at dusk to roost under the bridge – or at least they used to until bright lights were installed on the road above and along the water.
Almost overnight the starlings vanished as they could no longer sleep with lights shining in their faces than we can. But the bird lovers of Belfast spoke out and the authorities were forced to darken the lights. The starlings returned, a few at first, but now in massive flocks.
An hour by the Lagan this week was exhilarating. Nature seems to get your heart beating fast even when you’re staying still – and this was like the Belfast marathon! Dúlra wasn’t alone in admiring one of the natural world’s greatest shows, many commuters on the bridge were transfixed. One woman pushing a pram stopped in what seemed like disbelief as the starlings circled above her head and then fell like stones before disappearing under the bridge.
When Dúlra arrived, there was not a single starling to be seen, even though the sun had dipped below the skyline. For about 15 minutes, it was as though the starlings’ boycott was still in place.
But then, almost imperceptibly, the first starlings arrived as if they had been dropped down from the heavens. Just three of them, circling 200ft above the Lagan at breakneck speed.
Another wee bunch appeared – there were six in this grouping. So much for a murmuration, Dúlra thought, this was underwhelming.
Over the next ten minutes, more small groups appeared as if conjured up by a magician. They flew over Central Station and then down the Lagan between the swanky apartments. Each group was independent rather than part of the single unit that makes up a famous murmuration.
The minutes ticked by. Street lights were automatically turning on as dusk fell. And still there were only small groups of starlings in the air above. But then, suddenly, a whole battalion appeared from the east. One massive flock of several hundred. The atmosphere seemed to change, these birds were noisy and confident. There was clearly safety in numbers. And as they flew along the Lagan, their number grew. Out of nowhere more birds would arrive – 15 here, a dozen there – and merge into the main group.
Almost all came from East Belfast – that must be starling paradise. Smaller numbers flew in from the south along the Lagan itself from the direction of County Down.
Dúlra watched forlornly, hoping to see some birds from the West. One small flock did arrive from the direction of the Europa. That group might just include the bird that sings every morning from the aerial on his chimney pot.
The numbers were increasing all the time. Dúlra was engrossed. Twenty minutes passed in what seemed like moments. In the fading light, the flock had mushroomed in size. Now they were beginning to circle ominously like a giant swarm of bees. The woman on the bridge knelt down beside the pram and pointed toward the sky – she wanted her child to see the phenomenon.
You couldn’t possibly watch this and not smile. Perhaps 2,000 birds shapeshifting above your head like patterns in a kaleidoscope. They were like an aerial shoal of fish.
Starlings roost together at the docks because water holds heat better than land – that’s why you rarely get snow around the coast. It’s thought they also exchange information, their chattering under the bridge’s three arches was deafening. But above all, there is safety in numbers. When birds bunch up into flocks, that multitude of eyes can spot any danger.
And there’s danger everywhere. Just as the giant flock whizzed up and down the Lagan, a sparrowhawk floated across from the Short Strand to greet them. It was brilliant to see a raptor in the city centre – but this bird wasn’t seeking a kill. It was as if it was simply letting the starlings know who was ultimately the boss of this city. Its menacing message was clear: enjoy your night’s sleep under that dark bridge, because it could be your last!
As darkness finally fell, the final starling – druid in Irish – disappeared from the skyline and joined the horde of still-chattering birds under the bridge.
Dúlra packed up his binoculars and headed home with an extra spring in his step. The young mum pushed the pram once more – she’d be a half-hour late home tonight, but it was worth every minute.
• If you’ve seen or photographed anything interesting, or have any nature questions, you can text Dúlra on 07801 414804.
