Murmuration

The deafening shrieks of the flock pierce the air as they take flight, their wings beating furiously against the wind. Terror grips your heart at the sight of the swirling vortex of feathers enveloping the sky. You shield your eyes from the frenzied flurry, though you cannot look away from the hypnotizing horror.

The fledglings' shrill cries for their mothers are drowned out by the thunderous flutter. "Mama! Is tonight the night of the great murmuration?" they had pleaded breathlessly earlier that morning. The weary mothers implored their reckless young to be cautious on such a treacherous night. "You'll be swept away into the abyss, my child!"

The elders reminisce wistfully about the grand old days when murmurations numbered in the tens of thousands, mighty enough to blot out the sun. They speak of performing death-defying aerial feats and dancing on the edge of oblivion.

A lone youngster breaks from the flock, carried aloft on an updraft. For an instant it floats, suspended in time, before plunging back into the feathery chaos. Buffeted by the endless flurry of wings, the bird soars and dips, never knowing which breath will be its last.

As darkness shrouds the murmuring mass, an eerie calm settles on the nests. Fledglings cling to their mothers, their tiny hearts still hammering. In hushed voices, the elders recount the night's narrow escapes over a meager meal. But come morning, the siren song of the open sky will call once again...

Here’s a page for one of the filmmakers: Liberty Smith