Winter has spoken

Starlings, rooks and jackdaws can put on spectacular displays, but must also focus on how to stay warm and survive the night

M y little pair of starlings are such creatures of habit; they swoop into the warmth of our attic in the late afternoon to spend the night and emerge again the following morning just as the glowing orb of the sun peeks above the horizon.

Of course, starlings are renowned for their huge winter murmurations that swirl and dance in the sky before they settle down for the night in trees, church towers or reed beds. But that would be too much like roughing it for my starlings, who prefer instead to roost together in a place that is private and completely sheltered.

And come the spring, this same hole under the roof eaves will form a perfect place to rear a family. It is interesting, the different strategies used by starlings. Mine are a resident pair, while I imagine the starlings in those huge, winter-evening conglomerations comprise a significant portion of migrants from Scandinavia.

Flocking together does deliver benefits; there is safety in numbers and birds can work together to seek out the best feeding spots during the day. The social interactions with each other may also help to develop pair bonds between birds.

But my starlings are a wellestablished couple and they know their local area well, so staying together as a lone pair is undoubtedly the best option for them.

Other birds in my garden are seeking out safe roosting spots, too.

A blue tit is using a nest box as its bed for the night, while the white speckle of droppings on the floor of the garage suggests that a robin is favouring this as its nocturnal bolthole.

Night-time is fraught with danger for small birds due to the long hours of darkness they must endure without food. Heat loss is reduced when roosting by tucking their beaks into their shoulder feathers and some birds perch on one leg, drawing the other leg to the breast for warmth.

Wrens, treecreepers and long-tailed tits often roost communally to generate warmth.

It is not uncommon for there to be more than a dozen wrens huddled together in a single crevice and there is even one record from England of more than 50 birds squashed into a nest box.

But as winter roosts go, there are surely few more spectacular sights than the evening gatherings of rooks and jackdaws. For me, this is one of nature’s most magical experiences; a cacophony of noise and drama as the birds stream across the fading dusk sky.

They rise, fall and tumble together, the air full of their excited high-pitched calls, sneezes and snorts. When they reach their traditional roost site at the edge of a line of trees nearby, they fall rapidly, twisting and turning with wings half closed.

For another few minutes the restless calling and socialising continues, and then like the extinguishing of a flame, it falls silent. Winter has spoken, and night has broken. For songbirds, cold winters can present many problems and small birds such as goldcrests need to eat as much as 30% of their body weight each day to ensure survival.