The other day I had a stroll along the promenade at Nice just as the sun was setting. It was spectacular; I think sometimes winter sunsets are more impressive than summer sunsets. The evening skies recently have been a blaze of colour - the sun a fierce red fireball drifting either into the sea or behind a mountain. Once the sun had disappeared I continued my stroll but soon became completely and utterly transfixed by the sight of the Nice starlings flocking before going in to roost.
Of course I've seen this before - it happened daily in Perpignan - but it never fails to amaze me. Sat on a cold metal seat on the promenade I was completely mesmorised, unaware of my surroundings, lost in the incredible movements and patterns these birds were making. It was like watching an art installation, a live performance that was finely choreographed and breathtaking. Sometimes a breakaway group would form, and I was treated to not one but two displays. They would then regroup seamlessly, without collision and were as one again. Sometimes the sky was awash with swirling, hypnotic black. Sometimes the birds disappeared momentarily from sight as they turned on the wing, coming back into sight at speed, forming heart, cone, and kidney shapes in the evening sky.
I actually felt slightly exhausted at the end of it. Like the feeling you get when you come out of a particular intense theatre production. I resisted the urge to applaud, but inside I was giving these birds a standing ovation. Their perfomance made my day.
Of course I've seen this before - it happened daily in Perpignan - but it never fails to amaze me. Sat on a cold metal seat on the promenade I was completely mesmorised, unaware of my surroundings, lost in the incredible movements and patterns these birds were making. It was like watching an art installation, a live performance that was finely choreographed and breathtaking. Sometimes a breakaway group would form, and I was treated to not one but two displays. They would then regroup seamlessly, without collision and were as one again. Sometimes the sky was awash with swirling, hypnotic black. Sometimes the birds disappeared momentarily from sight as they turned on the wing, coming back into sight at speed, forming heart, cone, and kidney shapes in the evening sky.
I actually felt slightly exhausted at the end of it. Like the feeling you get when you come out of a particular intense theatre production. I resisted the urge to applaud, but inside I was giving these birds a standing ovation. Their perfomance made my day.
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