Murmuration

On a whim, when I picked him up after school, I suggested driving out to see the snow on the mountains, not really expecting him to go for it. But he said OK, so off we went. It was only as we drove out beyond Enniskerry that it suddenly occurred to me that icy roads might present a problem. So I told him we might have to turn back if the roads became too slippery. He was a bit concerned but apparently not too alarmed. 

Beyond Glencree I became cautious, and as soon as the road showed signs of ice-plating I looked for a place to pull in, about halfway up the mountain. We got out. He climbed the snow-crusted burnt-heather near the car and I ventured into a little plantation across the road. 

The first thing that met my eye was a cluster of large light bulbs, secreted like a wild bird's eggs, next to an empty sherry bottle. Then a number of black bin bags, bulging with litter, or possibly body parts. I wanted to explore further but he didn't like the place (I couldn't blame him). We headed back across the road and took Lola on the lead, up further onto the mountain's shoulder, crunching the brittle snow crust and avoiding occasional frozen pools: little polishings, fogged photographs of reeds, weeds and heather-stalks. He clambered onto a roughly rectangular boulder that seemed to have been deliberately split horizontally, a big stone sandwich with tiny square granite wedges holding apart the even, dark crack, like teeth in a dinosaur skull. An abstract sculpture perhaps, or abandoned stone-harvesting project. I showed him the little corrie lake, which he wanted to explore. But it was getting dark and I was thinking of the icy road. 

It was on the way back down into Enniskerry that I suddenly noticed this commotion of dark wings rising and falling about us, so many they altered the landscape, as if all the nearby trees and wires had become magnetised, furred with bird-filings. 

I think it's the first proper murmuration I've ever seen. Hard to catch their shape-shiftings because of the obstacles (trees mainly), fading light and busy road. Mesmerising. I would have stayed, and maybe followed them into the fields if there wasn't a boy and dog waiting in the car. A beautifully stirring end to our wee adventure though. I'm glad he witnessed it.