There's Always One

Sitting at my computer and gazing out of the window to the rooftops of the next row down the hill from our street, I noticed a little group of six starlings clinging to the topmost branches of an ash tree. The group word for starlings is 'murmuration', but, given the way that word is used of the vast wheeling flocks that can be seen at this time of the year, for example, along the lower reaches of the Severn by Gloucester, this little band hardly qualified, I felt.

As I watched, one starling took off and flew rapidly away, and the next four along immediately followed on. One last starling, however, stayed where he, or she, was - looking a little restless, shifting from twig to twig, but not leaving the tree. Why, I wondered . . . these are birds with a strong natural inclination to flock together, after all.

But there's always one, I suppose, in the starling world as in our human society; and thank God for them. I mean the odd ones out who don't necessarily do just as everyone else does, don't find the same need to conform or to seek approval, see further than others do and notice different things, and are alive and alert to issues, problems and dangers that the rest of us overlook. Society may sometimes make fun of such people, and at other times may persecute them; but we ignore the odd ones out at our peril, for it is from within these oddball types that our prophetic voices arise.

My solo starling took its time, but eventually took flight in the same direction as the others. Perhaps he or she had been spying out the land more carefully, or maybe this bird had wanted to think through the pros and cons of moving trees for herself, rather than just copying the others. It occurs to me that while those who do not go along with the human crowd may present a challenge or corrective to what the crowd decide or do, it is equally the case that they may provide confirmation that a decision made was right and good - and that either way, they provide a useful service to us all.