Ancient belief tells us
that birds carry our souls, our beliefs, our hopes up to the gods.
They are the dark messengers, crisscrossing the twilight sky,
forming ever-changing patterns called "murmurations."
But that word…
that word also suggests a voice,
a whisper,
a prayer uttered in the dark when we think we have lost it all.
Our story today is "The Murmuring,"
and our director is Jennifer Kent.
To those unfamiliar with the dunlin,
it would appear to be an unremarkable bird.
But to those familiar with its breathtaking flight patterns,
known as murmurations,
this species is a miracle of nature.
And a never-ending source of mystery.
In this case, a peregrine falcon appears hoping for a meal.
You can see it on the edge of frame.
And in an instant,
the dunlins veer away from it in perfect unison,
forming at first an hourglass shape.
And then a sphere.
And then something akin to a cloud.
And finally,
most incredibly,
a bird in flight.
Not one dunlin is caught,
and the poor falcon goes home hungry.
But the dunlins don't need a predator to prompt this phenomenon.
They do it with or without a falcon looming.
So, how and why do very few species partake in this exceptional display,
forming perfect patterns of movement in the hundreds,
thousands,
sometimes even millions without any collision or confusion?
Scientists and ornithologists have been trying to find out why for decades.
Even lately grasping at such mysterious concepts as natural telepathy.
We are not entirely convinced
there's anything as mystical as bird mind-reading going on.
But we are entirely devoted to finding out answers.
We would like to acknowledge Mr. and Mrs. Montague,
our benefactors, who are here tonight.
Hear, hear.
Thank you so much for your generosity.
And in particular, for our new movie camera.
It's a luxury we've never been able to afford,
and it'll make such a difference to our research.
And as a thank-you,
we have a snippet of footage Edgar shot recently of starlings,
a practice run.
Thank you.
It's Nancy you should be congratulating. She's the mastermind.
-Where did you film something like that? -Upstate New York.
-Have you used a camera before? -No, not that one.
They're one of the few survivors of the Prehistoric era.
-Much smaller, of course.
But mostly unchanged, which I find fascinating.
I'm also a terrific lover of research.
Pop me in a room with a stack of books, and I'm happy.
What about you, Mrs. Bradley?
What do you love most about birds?
Oh.
Their freedom.
Who wouldn't want to lift off and fly away from the world like that sometimes?
I was very happy to hear about your field trip.
I'm thrilled it's finally here. We've been planning it for months.
Very good news for both of you.
After all you've been through.
I'm so sorry, Edgar.
I meant to call you months ago, but…
If there is a God, he certainly is a very cruel one.
You've picked a time for it, cold and blustery.
A perfect time for the dunlins.
They're everywhere on the island now.
You'll have no shortage.
The house is near the bay, and they're all around it.
There's a house there?
The missus has prepared some rooms for your stay.
It's been a while since anyone's used it.
It's not the Ritz, but it's livable.
You didn't have to do that.
We couldn't have you staying in tents in this weather, for goodness' sakes.
-We're used to it. -I got the generator up and running.
So you'll have electricity, running water, a roof over your head.
That's very kind of you.
Tell me, that thing that they do, all flocking together like that,
why on earth do they do that?
I was expecting a shack. It's enormous!
Who on earth would've found the need to build such a large home here?
With nothing around.
Oh, the previous owners gave it to the State. More money than sense.
Did someone live here permanently?
The owner built it for his daughter, I believe. Shall I take you in?
Our apologies.
It's such a big house, couldn't clear it all.
It's a luxury for us. Truly.
Fresh wood in the fireplace is down here.
Same in the bedrooms upstairs.
And the kitchen stove is a wood burner.
Plenty of wood outside. I'll show you where.
And I'll show you where the generator is on the way out.
I'll be back next Sunday to drop off more supplies.
Thanks again.
Happy birdwatching.
Testing. Testing.
October 5th, 1951, first day on Big Harbour Island.
There's a huge flock gathering on the sandbar
and I just spotted a peregrine up high.
On my way.
Here they come.
My little beauties.
-So thoughtful. -Hmm?
New towels, new sheets.
They didn't have to do that.
They would've been paid a pittance by Cornell.
Just very good people.
I'm really glad we're here.
I'm very tired.
It's our first full day tomorrow.
Of course.
I just haven't slept.
It's no problem.
October 5th, 1951, 6:00 p.m. Big Harbour Island
A large number of dunlins are gathering on the bay.
Approximately 30 thousand--
-What happened? -I have no idea.
I'll check, you go back to bed.
You go.
I made you sandwiches.
-Thank you.
-Eat them. -I will.
Did you eat my sandwich?
Yes, it was delicious.
See you soon.
Do you mind if I don't come over this evening?
I need to set up my cataloging system.
-Oh. -You can station the mic I left.
-It's got a wide range, I prepped it. -No problem.
I can get dinner started.
Hello?
Hello.
In here.
What are you doing here in the gloom?
You'll ruin your eyes.
They're already ruined.
You missed a stunning one tonight. Possibly the most beautiful of all.
You always say that when I'm not there.
I do not.
Do I?
Mm-hmm.
-I got good audio, I think. -Thank you.
-They were very noisy. -Wonderful.
I made a casserole.
You're a wonder.
I'll get the fire going.
Brontë sisters, Madame Bovary,
Crime and Punishment.
-Tess of the d'Urbervilles… -That's a cheery selection.
What are you reading?
The Mating Habits of the Dunlin in the Canadian Wet Tundra Region.
It sounds provocative.
Oh, it is.
We're not even dealing with them in the mating season, darling.
Every aspect of their behavior could be a clue.
How they mate, how they nest, how they forage.
Why don't they engage in murmurations during the breeding season, for example?
Too busy making love.
Come on.
-No. -Please.
No. I want to read.
Come, come, come.
Please.
Edgar, don't.
I'm not in the mood.
You're never in the mood.
Edgar.
Edgar!
-Edgar! -What?
What in God's name are they doing?
Are they sick? Sheltering from the cold?
They're built for the cold.
I never heard of a dunlin roosting above shrub level,
certainly not in an attic.
My dear little dunlins,
what are you doing?
I'm recording.
Edgar?
I'm so cold.
Well?
They sound different, more melancholy.
Did you not hear it?
Hear what?
Give them to me.
-What did you hear? -Shh!
You haven't had any sleep. You're very tired.
I listened to it several times.
-I don't understand what's happened. -You haven't used an old tape?
Since when have I ever reused tapes? I'm not a fool.
All right, don't bite my head off.
It might help if you tell me what I'm meant to be listening for.
Oh, well…
It was good while it lasted.
"They roll like a drunken fingerprint across the sky."
Mm.
Richard Wilbur.
He's talking about murmurations.
Beautiful poem.
What?
"They roll like a drunken fingerprint across the sky."
What do?
Murmurations.
Oh.
That's good.
I cannot find one instance of dunlins roosting in a human structure anywhere.
Don't you think that's weird?
It'll most likely give us years of grief trying to figure it out.
It's like they're drawn to this house.
Drawn?
To this house?
That's a leap.
Well, why are they roosting in this house and nowhere else on Earth?
That we know of yet.
This house gives me the creeps.
Old houses do that.
They're creepy.
Can I read you some more?
What was this family doing here?
-The one on the walls. -I don't know, my love.
Why would they leave all their furniture and possessions,
gathering dust?
For decades?
You get that crease, just there,
when you're trying to solve a mystery.
-I shouldn't frown. -No, I like it. It's sexy.
You are sexy.
Don't be silly.
I love you, crazy bird lady.
Do you love me?
I have a headache.
Edgar.
Don't touch me.
-Why not? -What's the point?
The point is I love you.
I'm so sorry.
-I just need-- -More time.
I know.
I didn't mean to upset you.
I'll leave you be.
Edgar.
I'm so cold.
-Who's there? -What's wrong?
I had a bad dream.
I'm sorry.
It's so stuffy in here with the fire.
Can I open this, just a crack?
Yes.
Do you mind if I sleep near the window?
That's fine.
It's beautiful.
Don't you think it's strange, though?
How?
What's the one word I always mention
when anyone asks me why I'm drawn to birds?
You laugh about it.
-You always go on about their freedom. -Yes, that's right.
Freedom.
It's a feeling a lot of people get when they look at a murmuration, Nance.
I feel for her.
What do you mean?
I don't know. I… I just do.
Living in this big house all on her own.
She had her husband and son here by the looks of it. She wasn't alone.
It's an accurate embroidery. She must have been a keen birdwatcher.
What have I done now?
-I don't understand what you want from me. -I don't want anything.
I don't know.
Forget it.
-Did you get much work done today? -There is more to life than work.
I know there is, but we're here to work.
I thought you wanted me to take a break once in a while.
I do.
This is beautiful.
But when I look at it,
all I feel is sad.
Her arm outstretched like that.
She must have felt very trapped here.
I know how she felt.
Oh.
Ava.
Hey.
He wrote that he'd leave his wife once he came back from the war,
but then when the war was over, he went straight back to his wife, saying,
"Oh no, I cannot be with you, my love. I'm heartbroken."
"I have to honor my marriage." Blah blah blah.
-Mm-hmm. -She must have told him she was pregnant.
He mentions a child and paying for it.
I could tell from his first letter he was a cad.
-I suspect she had no idea.
-She was head over heels in love-- -Shh! You're too loud!
He never lived here, he was never part of the family,
though the photos make it look like that.
Why are you so interested in their story?
Why?
'Cause I want to know how they ended up on this island all alone.
It's sad.
We're staying in their house.
You feel that gives you permission to read all their personal letters?
Is it so wrong to read a dead person's letters?
Yes, it is.
And how do you know they're dead?
I have a feeling.
You have a scientist's brain.
Since when have you relied on "I have a feeling" in place of facts?
Oh, yes, Edgar. God forbid I should feel something.
The minute some people step into a falling-down old house,
they start seeing ghosts.
Some people?
I am not "some people."
And I don't believe in ghosts.
You're more interested in people you've never met than your own work.
-I have devoted my life to this work. -I know.
I have worked harder than any of those men
who sail through the halls of Cornell thinking they're God's gift.
I know. I'm sorry.
Forgive me for being interested
in something other than birds for five minutes!
Edgar.
Yes?
The dunlins are back.
Oh.
I'll be over in a while.
Things just got interesting.
I'll be there as soon as I can.
Mommy's mad at me.
-What did you do?
-Where have you been? Working.
-You said you'd come as soon as you could. -I was doing my job.
Open the door.
Don't grip it so tight. It's stunned, you'll kill it.
-Nancy. -Please, Edgar, put it down.
Sweetheart, its neck is broken.
-Oh. -Poor little thing.
Oh well, not all is lost. The museum always needs more skins.
Are you all right?
Yes.
Yes, of course.
I'm so cold.
What did you do?
-Nancy.
Nance!
It's all right.
It's all right, sweetheart. Shh.
The door opened on its own.
And then something…
…something…
It's an old house. Everything moves and creaks.
Let it out, Nance.
You haven't cried at all. Not since…
everything happened.
It would do you good to let it out.
Just yesterday, you told me you didn't want me to feel.
-That's not what I said. -You said I was being unscientific.
Relying on my feelings.
No, I said I was surprised you were relying on your feelings.
Because that would be so terrible, wouldn't it?
No, Nance. I don't know what I--
So, which wife do you want me to be, Edgar?
The one who feels or the one who doesn't?
I'm sorry, Nance. I'm not perfect.
I'm trying.
Oh yes, you're trying.
I don't wanna talk anymore.
I just wanna sleep.
Hello.
-Got everything you asked for. -Wonderful.
Mr. Grieves?
Can you tell me who lived in this house?
Uh, nobody's lived here for decades.
Yes, I know that. But… who are the people on the walls?
I know this might sound silly, but I have seen some things…
here.
That's all. Some...
very odd things.
What do you mean?
Why did she live all the way out here
alone with her son?
Her family put her here.
It was too isolated.
And it didn't work out.
How did it not work out?
The boy died.
How?
Please, Mr. Grieves, how did he die?
He drowned.
She drowned him, didn't she?
And where is the mother now?
Please, Mr. Grieves.
She did away with herself.
This happened 30 years ago, Mrs. Bradley. What is there to tell?
I would've liked to have known.
My wife and I went out of our way to give you a place to stay,
out of this dreadful cold.
We really made an effort.
Of course, and we're enormously grateful.
People say they see things here,
but it's just a morbid fascination with other people's misery.
-People see what they wanna see. -Of course.
It's all a load of rubbish.
I don't believe in ghosts.
-What was that about? -What was what about?
Your long, heated conversation with the caretaker?
Nothing.
It wasn't nothing.
How am I ever supposed to help you if you never tell me anything?
Whenever I tell you anything, it's never what you wanna hear.
I want to know.
I do.
I asked him about the people who lived here.
The mother and child.
All right.
Because I have been seeing and hearing them ever since we got here.
What do you mean?
I have seen and heard them.
In this house.
Their voices,
their… forms.
And I would love it, I would dearly love it, Edgar,
if I could just tell you this and you would believe me.
I know you've had no proper sleep for a whole year.
Even sane, rational people like you
will see and hear things when they've had no sleep.
-Please, Edgar, don't-- -I haven't seen anything, Nance.
No ghosts or goblins. Nothing but a big, sad old house.
So forgive me. I am trying to understand.
Don't tell me you're trying to understand like I'm some crazy person.
I never said you were crazy!
All I know is you've been dealt the worst blow any mother,
any human being could've been dealt, and I'm very worried about you.
Why is it always about me?
You went through this too, Edgar.
Why don't you tell me how you feel for once?
All right! I feel lost.
I feel… angry.
I feel completely heartbroken.
And I… I don't understand you.
I… I don't understand how our darling Ava can die,
and you haven't shed a tear,
not one single tear in the whole year since.
You want me to cry for you?
-Would that make it better? -No, of course not.
I just thought a mother would cry for her child.
We took this trip to make things better, and now we're here and you…
you seem to care more about these people, these dead people,
than you do about your own daughter.
You asked me how I feel.
Well, that's how I feel.
You've never let me in, Nance.
Not once through this horrible mess of a year.
I try…
…and I try, and I just feel you slipping away.
I want more than anything in the world for us to stay together, but I don't…
I'll sleep down here tonight.
Head off to my station early in the morning before dawn.
Unless you want me to stay.
Just…
tell me, Nance,
and I will.
I'll be on the radio.
Edgar.
Mommy's mad at me.
What have you done? What have you done? What have you done?
What have you done?
Stop it!
Leave him alone!
Mommy is mad at me.
And I don't know why.
Sweetheart.
Your mommy did a bad thing to you.
You were hurt.
And you're not alive anymore.
You did… nothing wrong.
You were the perfect child.
I'm so cold.
It's so dark.
Come into the light, sweetheart,
where it's warm. Can you do that?
Take my hand.
You won't be alone or cold anymore.
Run into the light, sweetheart.
You're safe.
Run into the light.
Run into the light!
What have you done?
No!
Nancy?
Nance?
Edgar.
Yes.
Are you all right?
I'm sorry.
I'm so sorry.
I've been so lost.
Of course, my darling, I understand.
I love you.
I love you too, my darling.
So much.
I wanna talk about Ava.