After the big bang!

 

The day the starlings came

There was something ominous, something almost sinister about the arrival of the starlings  –  something that revived memories of Hitchcock.  They came in waves, wave upon wave, thick clouds of black dots swirling in the breeze, before they alighted in the top branches of every available tree.  Their energies restored, they flew down to the sheep field which they attacked with the vigour and enthusiasm of an over-charged vacuum cleaner  –  much to the consternation of the resident bird population.

The birds return

As the snow retreated from the sheep field next to my garden, the birds quickly returned to forage for food.

The starlings came in great numbers  – scores at a time

–  and pecked away voraciously.

The fieldfares withdrew from the melee of such greedy guzzling.

The redwing felt left out.

The thrush looked on with disdain.

The lone blackbird peered from a safe distance, beyond the fence.

The colourful goldfinch found his own quiet patch on the farm track, seemingly oblivious to the goings on.

Birds of a feather

Perched quietly in the topmost branches, I thought when they arrived they were rooks.  I’m not so sure now.  Even so, I liked the picture they created and enjoyed their prolonged stillness in the late afternoon sunshine on a warm Spring day.

Birds of a feather