I am not entirely enticed by murmuration. It’s sort of…silly. An overstatement of nothing much.
It’s not in my dictionary, either. Not that that means a lot. Necessarily. It’s the Macquarie Dictionary, which is Australian, and we all know that Australia is ‘America fifty years ago’ (Rich Cohen, Vanity Fair August 2016) and can’t be expected to understand anything more sophisticated than bugger and Home and Away (although I should perhaps point out that bugger is a very fine word when used judiciously, and Home and Away keeps three of my grandchildren in school shoes).
Perhaps this also suggests that Australians don’t murmurate a lot, murmuration being far too genteel for a nation that shouts Ozzie Ozzie Ozzie, Oi Oi Oi at international sporting events, and has birds that laugh raucously instead of gently tweeting.
(De Valk Roofvogels van den brink)
Still, for whatever reason and whatever it says about me and my fellow citizens, murmuration doesn’t really grab me. So what about mumbulation? (the act of mumbling). I could come to like that, I think, mumbling itself having that rough and ready disrespect that sits far more easily with my graceless soul.