Every evening this happens. As darkness slowly gathers the Starlings begin to line up on the wires.
The wires bow down almost to breaking point as thousands of starlings gather in preparation for roosting.
Then the magic begins.
The dance before bedtime.
Painting the sky.
This morning we woke to this.
And these two, also dancing.
Big Daddy and Little Daddy. Sadly we did not snap them as they rose into the air with claws and wattles rattling, but they did, and then pretended nothing had happened.
And sloped off.
Later, I braved blizzards and visited the Loch of Strathbeg for the Wild Art Weekend, where our group were portraying birds to the best of our ability. Sadly the weather had put off everyone else, so no-one was there to see our display.....
No, not this one,
Or this one, it was supposed to be about birds wasn't it?