It struck me that experienced birders can often identify a species in a single glance, using what’s known as “General Impression, Size and Shape”. On a still frame, the bird is often little more than a tiny speck so recognising patterns in their movement, akin to a human’s gait must play an important part in identifying them.
I set about exploring how to capture their distinctive flight patterns and found that this revealed both beauty and insight into their interaction with the space around them.
In my current project, my aim is to use photographic techniques to create stunning images that depict the fluid shapes seen in flocks of starlings. I want to capture the essense of a murmuration and do justice to the spectacle.
Read more about my work on starling murmurations in my latest photo essay.
Out of nowhere. As dusk approaches, groups of starlings arrive in dribs and drabs, coming in to roost after feeding in the fields. Then, as if out of nowhere, thousands of birds appear on the horizon.Dementor II. As winter progresses, predators gather in the coppices surrounding the reeds. Every ten minutes or so a sparrowhawk would appear from the trees for a short-lived pursuit, flying beneath the flock to keep the starlings off the safety of the redbed. This continued until near-darkness. It was difficult to tell how many predators were present. Certainly more than one; perhaps benefitting from the combined efforts to split and tire the flock.Into the Darkness. A sparrowhawk makes a foray into the swirling mass of starlings. It returns, seconds later, with a bird in its beak. With so many prey in one place, the odds are good - for both the safety of the starlings, and the hunting success for the hawks.Perspective. The flock is vast, and I capture just one end of it as it stretches to the horizon.Smoke screen. Sometimes the flock is so large that it fills the horizon like a curtain of smoke. As they pass overhead, the sky darkens and the sound of thousands of wingbeats fills the air.The chase. My main aim this winter was to capture some predator-prey interaction. I could see glimpses of the flock being split by the predators but the fast pace and rapid changes of direction made planning my shots difficult.Cyclone. The flock turns as it undulates above the wetland.Ebb and Flow. The flock is strangely peaceful in its immensity as it ebbs and flows like a tide over a mile of wetlands.Into the Reeds. The most dangerous time for the starlings is when they must commit to descending into the reeds to roost. This is the moment the predators have been waiting for. This evening, the starlings did not form a large flock. Instead, they made a bee-line for the reed bed, approaching fast and low, pouring into the safety of the vegetation.Pirouette. On a gusty November evening, instead of forming a large flock, the starlings arrived in small groups. They darted around above the reeds, nimbly changing direction on a pin-head and far more agile than the larger groups I’d seen on other evenings. After a few seconds of rapid twists and turns the whole group would dive into the reeds, safe for the night.Bait ball. Even when the hawks are elsewhere the predators have the starlings on edge and the flock twists and turns as if being pursued. The swirling mass of birds can seem to appear out of nowhere, and just as quickly vanish. The fleeting shapes and patterns are a result of a precise mix of weather, season, food and predation and will never again be repeated.Fireworks. Anticipating how the flock would react was crucial to framing the action. Each image is the result of hundreds of hours of observation and filming the birds. Only on processing my footage did I find that I had captured a few intense moments where the birds of prey caused the starlings to scatter.UFO. Early in the season, predators were scarce. Large groups of starlings arrived above the reedbeds, and then, in a swift and orderly way they descended to the safety of the reeds. These large groups would descend in stages, a few heading down towards the reeds and the rest remaining at a safe height. As if this is part of some strategy to safeguard against predation, or perhaps there is only so much roosting space in each section of reeds.Meteor. On a gusty November evening, instead of forming a large flock, the starlings arrived in small groups. They darted around above the reeds, nimbly changing direction on a pin-head and far more agile than the larger groups I’d seen on other evenings. After a few seconds of rapid twists and turns the whole group would dive into the reeds, safe for the night.Scribbles. The flight paths from just over a second of birds in the middle of the flock as they twist and turn.Follow the Leader. A small group of starlings appear to lead the way as the entire flock flies overhead. At RSPB Old Moor the starlings were consistently murmurating before diving into reedbed 1 to roost. To get this shot I visited the reserve dozens of times over the winter of 2018/19. On this ice cold evening, a peregrine falcon was also patiently waiting to try it’s luck. The wind was so strong that my tripod was getting buffeted around and I dared not include any foreground in the shot; it would have been too blurred. At this reserve, the starlings murmurate directly over the path. At points, the birds are only metres above me and the noise is incredible. I pointed my camera at the sky and captured the flock surging towards me. This image earned me Birdlife Photographer of the year in the British Photography Awards 2020.Trails at Dusk. Starlings have been gathering in their thousands by an area of reedbeds close to the Peak District village of Stoney Middleton. I arrive at 3:20, and over the next 40 minutes, hundreds of thousands of starlings fly overhead. Most arrive in large flocks and then dive into the reeds. I spot a few sparrowhawks trying their luck, but there’s not enough predation to spark any significant murmuration. The noise of the wingbeats and chattering of so many creatures is magical. These last few birds had been waiting in the large tree on the horizon, and trickled in to roost as the sun set. This image was highly commended in the Bird Photographer of the Year awards 2020.Funnel. The flock swirls, twists and turns, forming shapes like funnels and tornadoes as the birds seek a suitable spot to land.Dementor; An evil and fearsome creature. At RSPB Old Moor the starlings were consistently murmurating around the pylons before diving into the reedbeds to roost. To get this shot I visited the reserve dozens of times over the winter of 2018/19. On this particularly grim evening, with ice cold wind making the cables sway, a peregrine falcon was also patiently waiting to try it’s luck. The entire flock turned suddenly, the leading birds having spotted the peregrine in their path. Creating such dramatic and foreboding patterns in the sky, it is little wonder that this natural phenomenon was once interpreted as messages from the spirit world.RSPB Blacktoft Sands, Yorkshire, UK. As the mist rolls in, a marsh harrier flies in to roost on the reserve. I spent a freezing day on the reserve on a quiet day between Christmas and New Year. As often happens on the east coast, a thick fog rolled in well before nightfall with this Marsh Harrier flying a few minutes before I lost all visibility.
Avalanche. Thousands of noisy chattering starlings gathered on the pylons as dusk approached, awaiting the critical moment the movement begins. The mass of individuals becomes self-organised and appears to move as one. The mathematics that describes the split second where thousands of individuals seem to act as a single entity is known as “criticality”. The very same science is behind how avalanches form.
A Bee-line to Bed. I stood on the path to the reedbed hides and in near-darkness pointed my camera roughly in the direction of their usual roosting site. Thousands of starlings dive out of the sky into the reeds within a matter of seconds and with some luck I managed to capture that moment. The noise of them coming to rest is incredible to witness.Cascade. Thousands of noisy chattering starlings gathered on the pylons as dusk approached, awaiting the critical moment the movement begins. The mass of individuals becomes self-organised and appears to move as one. The mathematics that describes the split second where thousands of individuals seem to act as a single entity is known as “criticality”. I love how the starlings appear to be pouring off the cables, as if they are a liquid.The abstract pattern formed by a flock of starlings, turning as one. This one reminds me of an ink splash or the vortices you see in the science of fluid dynamics. The wind was so strong that my tripod was getting buffeted around and I dared not include any foreground in the shot; it would have been too blurred. At this reserve, the starlings murmurate directly over the path. At points, the birds are only metres overhead and the noise is incredible. I pointed my camera at the sky and captured the flock twisting and surging above me.RSPB Bempton cliffs, Yorkshire, UK. Around half a million sea birds gather to nest on these cliffs, including the UK's largest mainland gannet colony, puffins, and guillemots. It's hard to represent the shear number of birds in the air around the reserve, so I'm experimenting with combining frames again. This image contains the "bird tracks" from just 5 seconds combined into a single image. This image won the silver award in the Bird Photographer of the Year competition 2019.
RSPB Bempton cliffs, Yorkshire, UK. Around half a million sea birds gather to nest on these cliffs, including the UK's largest mainland gannet colony, puffins, and guillemots. They are drawn by plentiful nesting sights along a 17 mile stretch of cliffs up to 400ft high. The shear number of birds in the air around the reserve is a true wildlife spectacle and is hard to represent in a photograph. To give you a sense of scale, this image contains the "bird tracks" from only 5 seconds combined into a single image.Air Traffic Control 2: RSPB Bempton cliffs, Yorkshire, UK. Around half a million sea birds gather to nest on these cliffs, including the UK's largest mainland gannet colony, puffins, and guillemots. It's hard to represent the shear number of birds in the air around the reserve, so I'm experimenting with combining frames again. This image contains the "bird tracks" from just 10 seconds combined into a single image.Around half a million sea birds gather to nest at RSPB Bempton cliffs in Yorkshire, including the UK's largest mainland gannet colony. Gannets will pair for life and often return to the same nest site year after year. They are our largest seabird with a wingspan of 2 metres and can travel great distances for provisions. The air space around the cliffs is busy with these large birds leaving for or returning from fishing trips. This image, taken from the Staple Newk viewpoint, contains the "bird tracks" from just 3 seconds combined into a single image.Rising on thermals: While enjoying the sunshine at Forge Dam in Sheffield, several crows were using the thermals above the valley to rise far above me.There is a large rookery near my home in west Sheffield. On an early summer’s day, the sky above it was filled with birds circling on the thermals, rising to beyond view. This rook has followed an aesthetic near perfect helix shape through the frame. It was impossible to see the birds in the distance by eye - only when I compressed the frames together did I see the patterns they had left too.There is a large Rookery near my home in west Sheffield. In the depth of winter hundreds of birds gather in the trees here. They will often rise into the sky on mass, swirling around the treetops and then gradually return to their branches. This bird was battling the wind, rising and falling on the air, trying to find a suitable spot to land.On an early summer’s day, buzzards circle on the thermals above the Peak District. It’s a long process gaining height, with these birds making hundreds of circles, riding the thermals upwards.
