The air was cold and crisp, sound carried, and fall colors radiated in the early morning sunshine. I stepped from under the back porch roof to meet the day, when, at that instant, thousands of common grackles began calling and taking flight all at once. All of the trees within several hundred feet were filled with these raucous, excited birds with more streaming in from elsewhere, just as large numbers left the area.
Back yard a few days before the grackle invasion.
Standing still, without making a sound, I thought if I had been the factor that initially disturbed the birds, they would soon calm down. If anything, though, their loud chatter increased, as more grackles continued to arrive. When great numbers took to the air at once, they coalesced into a tight, organized formation, each bird following the movements of the others. But which bird was the leader? Or was there even a leader? Air moving through so many beating wings was a living wind, matching the complicated motions of the flock in tone, volume, and pitch; a symphony of physics. In an instant all of the chattering stopped…and then started up again all together as if directed by a conductor’s baton.
I could have stood watching until all of the grackles flew away, but they might have stayed around for quite some time, and I was not willing to wait. Serious plans were in place for my day: run a few errands in town, check on the bee hives and chickens, walk some trails, read, tune my autoharp, read some more, and nap. So I abandoned the chaotic grackles for them to figure out their own problems, but I left with a feeling of being slightly impatient and of missing something important.
They might have been staging for their migration. I saw similar behavior two years ago in Princeton; and then next day, they were all gone.
Posted by: Rutwik | November 10, 2018 at 07:36 AM