Soggy Sussex

Hello and welcome to the latest blog from The Olivia Rose Diaries on February 16^th 2024.

We have spent the last week house-sitting in Sussex, looking after two rather adorable rescue dogs, one from Cyprus and the other from Romania.

We had hoped to spend some time walking along the River Arun and the South Downs Way during our time here but we couldn’t reach it. The whole valley was flooded. The house we were staying in was slightly higher but all around us fields were waterlogged, footpaths treacherously muddy if not blocked off by puddles that required wellingtons rather than walking boots and still the rain kept falling. And then on our last day it changed, completely disregarding the weather forecast for yet another grey day, and the sun came out for a few hours, so warm we had a cup of tea in the garden.

Given the weather I have little to report about this corner of the country but we have seen some starling murmurations earlier in our trip to the UK that prompted me to think about why we call it a murmeration. After all, starlings don’t murmur.

It is thought that these distinctive flight patterns, a prelude to roosting for the night, are a form of protection against predators. There is some safety to be had in large numbers and the constant movement makes it harder for birds of prey to pick off individual starlings. However, whilst they may not be calling or singing, the beat of thousands of wings in unison makes it’s own noise, a background hum or murmur, and this is what the terms refers to.

Intrigued by the idea of how we refer to collections of birds, I decided to research it further and soon found myself completely overwhelmed by long lists of collective nouns. One of the oldest of these lists was published anonymously in 1486, and had the rather splendid title of ‘The Compaynys of Beestys and Fowlys’. Everyone assumed it had been written by a man, but there is some evidence to suggest that it was written by a woman called Juliana Barnes. In those days women were not afforded the same freedoms as men, but she loved to study and to write and, having retreated to a nunnery, found an environment where she could indulge her passions.

Some of these collective nouns for birds have changed over the years, and new ones have been added. At times they can be quite whimsical, for example an ‘omniscience of godwits’ or a ‘bazaar of guillemots’ but others are more easily understood, referring to a character trait or behaviour of a particular species. We can immediately relate to a ‘flamboyance of flamingos’ or an ‘ostentation of peacocks. A ‘watch of nightingales’ refers to their nocturnal habits and the idea of keeping watch through the night, whilst a ‘fall of woodcocks’ describes the dance of courting birds.

Other names originate from folklore and traditional beliefs, not all of which are accurate or fair. Groups of crows have been described as a mob, horde or, rather unfairly, a murder of crows, the latter commonly used since medieval times when peasants feared that the birds were emissaries of death, sent by the devil or were even witches in disguise.

You could argue that these collective names are charming but not terribly relevant. But having thought about this for a while I think the naming of things matters. Our connection to the natural world is strengthened if we can put a name to a particular bird or animal, not just as a species but also collectively. If we are aware of their habits and behaviour a link is established and they matter more to us. I remember the coots that had been our constant companions as we cruised through The Netherlands during last summer, vocal, ferocious little birds who defended their territory with great gusto, and I could immediately see that describing them as ‘a commotion’ is wonderfully apt. I thought of skylarks singing as I walked over the hills of Wales for so many years, a glorious uplifting anthem in the skies, and knew that I wouldn’t forget that they were described collectively as an ‘exaltation’.

As these names become part of my vocabulary, so the birds that they refer to become part of my world, something to care about, to nurture and protect. It’s no different to the way in which we react to our own fellow humans. It’s easy to dismiss a stranger, someone that we know nothing about, but once we put a name to a face there is a connection, which can lead to a relationship and from there we start to look out for each other. Names matter.

As a final note on the subject here is a list of some of my favourites – my top twenty.

A confusion of chiffchaffs

A trembling of finches

A parcel of linnets

A chime of wrens

A mischief of magpies

A scold of jays

A deceit of lapwings

An invisibleness of ptarmigans

A pitying of turtle doves

A booby of nuthatches

A wisp of snipes

A quilt of elders

A worm of robins

A wake of buzzards

A fling of sandpipers

A congress of eagles

A charm of hummingbirds

A clattering of jackdaws

A parliament of owls

A prattle of parrots

Next week we shall be back in France but we are taking a slow journey back to Le Shack, stopping off in Nantes and Bordeaux on the way down. Hopefully I should have some interesting pictures for you in the next blog.

Take care.

MJ