The Sky Dances at Dusk: Speckled Starlings and Sunsets Over Noordhoek Beach

Every evening, just before the sun slips behind the Atlantic and paints Noordhoek Beach in molten golds and sleepy pinks, I find myself exactly where I want to be—on my patio. Mug in hand, heart wide open, eyes fixed on the sky. Because I know what’s coming. A show. A murmuration. A moment of magic.

Introducing the speckled starlings.

They arrive with flair. Like nature’s own flash mob, thousands strong. It’s impossible not to fall in love with these feathery performers who swirl and swoop as if their ink drops in the wind.

Let me introduce you to my favourite feathered friends, the stars of my sunsets.

What Do Speckled Starlings Look Like?

Imagine a bird dressed for a party. That’s a speckled starling. Sleek, shiny, and dipped in iridescence, their plumage glimmers in purples, greens, and blues—especially when the last light of day kisses their backs. From afar, they look black. But wait till they catch the sunlight just right—voilà! A glitter explosion!

And yes, they are speckled. Tiny flecks dot their chests and wings, giving them the appearance of being dusted in stars. Like little galaxies with beaks and attitude.

What Does Their Murmuring Sound Like?

Oh, the murmur. If you’ve never heard it, imagine a low, rolling purr of feathers and faint chirps. Like wind whispering secrets through the trees. It’s… alive. It’s the sound of togetherness, of birds checking in with one another mid-air. A social network of wings.

Sometimes I think it’s their version of, “Hey, mind the sharp turn left!” Or perhaps, “Woohoo, did you see that dive?”

Why Do Starlings Murmur, Anyway?

Now here’s where it gets scientific and sensational. The starlings’ murmuration—those dazzling sky-dances—aren’t just for show. They’re a safety-in-numbers strategy. When they cluster and weave together in mid-air, they confuse predators and make it difficult for one to be singled out.

But that’s not all. It’s also about warmth and community. As night approaches, starlings gather to roost together in big numbers, sharing warmth and information about good feeding spots. Like gossip over dinner. With wings.

They also do it because, frankly, they can. And who wouldn’t, if you could dance through the sky with hundreds of your besties?

Who’s Chasing Them?

Like all good protagonists, the starlings have an antagonist. Enter: the peregrine falcon. Or any bird of prey. I have seen the bird of prey try to disperse the flock, but they work so well together, they are never successful!

Fast. Fierce. Focused. The falcon has one goal—dinner. But here’s where nature gets clever. Those hypnotic aerial acrobatics? That’s how the starlings throw the falcon off. One minute a starling is there, the next it’s somewhere else entirely, wrapped in a thousand look-alikes.

Think of it as nature’s version of the shell game. “Catch me if you can,” they say. And often, the falcon can’t.

Their Sky Dance Is Pure Poetry

I know I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again: watching starlings at sunset is pure poetry.

These birds ripple. They fold. Then spin across the sky like spilled ink, like a silk ribbon on the breeze, like a dream moving through dusk. No two murmurations are the same. Some are soft and wave-like. Others are chaotic and bold. But all are breathtaking.

And when set against the backdrop of a Cape Town beach sunset—those molten skies, that glimmering beach, the hush of the sea—it’s enough to make you believe in magic. Real, feathered, flapping magic.

My Feathered Gratitude

I’ve never felt more connected to the Earth than when I’m watching birds. Especially these birds. There’s something about the rhythm of it. The ritual. Each evening, they arrive. Each evening, they lift my heart with them into the sky.

Nature doesn’t ask anything from me except attention. So I give it. With joy. With awe. With gratitude.

Birds, to me, are tiny timekeepers of wonder. They remind me to pause, to breathe, to look up. They remind me that life doesn’t need to be big to be beautiful. It just needs to be noticed.

So Here’s to the Starlings and Sunsets

From the speckled starlings and their shadowy swirls. To the sound of wings and whispers. Even to the falcon or bird of prey, even. Because without the chase, there’d be no dance. Along the skies of along the Noordhoek beach, where the sun dips low and the sky becomes a canvas of feathers.

And to dusk—my favourite time of day. The in-between. The hush. The symphony of color and movement, and life.

I wouldn’t trade these twilight moments for anything. Not even an extra helping of dessert (and that’s saying something).

So if you ever find yourself on the southern tip of Africa, head to Noordhoek Beach at sunset. Look up. Listen close. You might just fall in love with a sky full of speckled starlings. I know I did.