Last June, I travelled to London to experience The Burnt City performed by Punchdrunk, an immersive theatre company. Based on two graphic Greek tragedies, the production was unlike any regular theatre performance. The audience were free to explore the warehouse-sized set and follow the actors around as they performed. Nine months on, the intense scenes are still vivid in my memory. It felt so different to theatre I had experienced before.

Having seen online that there was a sizeable starling murmuration near Ripon, I convinced my family that taking a look would make for a good evening walk. I had seen a murmuration on the television, but this had not prepared me for the scale of what was to come.

On arrival, it was clear that other people had had the same idea; the car park was congested. The sun was setting and a song thrush sang its heart out as we made our way to the nature reserve down the track that hugs the banks of the River Ure. We joined the end of the crowd that had assembled on the bank.

To begin with there were no starlings and it was scarcely believable that many would soon arrive. A barn owl flew silently across the landscape and was noted by a few. Shortly after, a flock of twelve starlings arrived on stage. From all directions, they were soon joined by more … lots, lots more. When birds of prey are present there is safety in numbers The sheer number of starling soon became impossible to count. I saw estimates of three hundred thousand, but it could easily have been more. High above the reedbed the sky was full of them. Gradually they sank lower and began to swirl, generating shapes and patterns that looked familiar. As they flew overhead their wingbeats sounded like the fizz of an analogue radio caught between stations. The sky darkened. In an adjacent ditch, water rail squealed like rowdy piglets. A few spectators were hit by droppings that fall from the sky. They say it brings luck, but I have never quite worked out why.

Packing together tighter still, the starlings poured into their reedbed roost, as if directed by a musical conductor. After they disappeared, the audience stood stunned. Silent at first, but tentatively some began to applaud. It had been a performance of epic proportions, an evening of birding that was immersive and different. A theatrical performance that I will remember for ever.

wharfedale-nats.org.uk