The Birds, Our Teachers

Many birds are gregarious by nature, as is evident from the collective nouns which are used in relation to them. We have probably all heard of a covey of Partridges, a bevy of Quails, a paddling of Ducks, a spring of Teal, a gaggle of Geese and a herd of Swans. Less well known, however, are a charm of Goldfinches, a murmuration of Starlings and an exultation of Larks.

First, some birds feed together. A notable example is the communal fishing of the Great White Pelicans. Up to a dozen birds swim in a horseshoe formation, with the open end pointing forward. Then from time to time, in perfect unison, as if in response to a signal, they all plunge their heads into the water and bring up whatever fish they have enclosed.

Secondly, many birds congregate for night-time roosting, to protect themselves from predators and from the winter cold. As the sun dips towards the horizon, small flocks fly in from all directions towards their favoured rendez-vous. I have myself watched extraordinary gatherings of Hornbills in a Thailand forest, Scarlet Ibises collecting on mangrove trees in Trinidad’s Coroni Swamp, and Egrets in Africa and Asia alighting on a given tree until it is white with these elegant Herons. No roost is more spectacular, however, than that of European Starlings, which turn the sky black as more than a million may fly in, to gather on trees or city buildings.

Thirdly, some birds breed colonially, as mentioned earlier, and fourthly, most birds, which migrate do so in flocks. Geese, Swans and Duck fly in V-formation, so as to avoid the slipstream of the bird in front, and so conserve energy. Raptors use the thermal currents and so drift in large but irregular numbers. Perhaps the most extraordinary mass migration is that of Australian “mutton birds”, the popular name for the Short-tailed Shearwaters. Millions of them migrate in a huge loop around the Pacific, from South Australia to Japan and back again.

John Stott