With no automatic violin cases in evidence, just a loving wife cooking a scrumptious roast rib of beef for lunch, I sallied forth for a post prandial wander along the Prom to contemplate nature on my own and was confronted by an unusual sight. For a mile or so the air above was thick with thousands of seagulls, gliding, swooping and soaring with hardly a beating wing in sight. They were concentrated over the seafront, straying neither inland nor out to sea at heights from 100 to about 600 feet. Every now and then a group of twenty or thirty would dive down to the water’s edge as if spotting a tasty morsel, but they would linger only for a second or two before flapping madly back into the sky. Their behaviour was unusual as were the elements. The sea was a white, frothing maelstrom for a good hundred yards out to sea, whipped up by an untypical southerly onshore wind. I suspect it was this combination that was causing the rare aerial activity. It was as if they were all attempting to emulate Jonathan Livingstone as they vied for ‘Glider Pilot in Chief’ honours.
Further along the Front was a another delight of nature. Swirling and gyrating around their favourite landmark, the Golden Globe at the end of Eastbourne’s pier, a huge murmuration of starlings was showing off to the minimalist but intrigued crowd on their Sunday afternoon perambulations. It was a particularly active display, with small squadrons of birds joining the main formation on a regular basis as word got out that it was playtime. Looking like something between an amoeba under the microscope and a wobbly jelly, the form is ever-changing. Sometimes it goes from a tight ball into a long linear line-up darting off westwards and then changing rapidly back through one hundred and eighty degrees, throwing off a large group of tail-end Charlies, who then have to smoothly rejoin the master group. Normally in formation flying there is only one Leader, who is totally responsible for everything that happens; navigation, formation changes, heights etc etc. Where he goes the rest follow. But in a Murmuration everyone seem to be a leader! How they avoid multiple mid-air pile-ups is a complete mystery. Today’s display saw them going from skimming the wave tops to climbing into a tight, perfect, dark black ball like a UFO from outer space, before starbursting more dramatically than any fireworks.
One of the joys of living in Eastbourne is the ever-changing scenery, whether it be walking the dog on the beautiful Sussex Downs or breathing in the ozone-filled air down on the seafront. There’s no need to emulate Sir David Attenborough’s naturalist globetrotting when there is so much to see on one’s doorstep. Lockdown is tolerable for those of us lucky enough to be here, although one can but hope that the growing band of Tory MP’s who are campaigning for an imminent return to sanity/normality will have their way. There are only so many times we can enjoy a family game of Monopoly without somebody getting strangled. In hope, we have just booked a fortnight’s holiday in late June to the glorious Suffolk coast, not far from where my sister and I went to school many moons ago. Here’s hoping it happens…..
ADayInTheStrifeOf 