Twilight With Jackdaws

About a million jackdaws flying across the fields to roost in the tall trees below the chapel, in the twilight. They come in waves, in loose, tattered groups, the opposite of synchronised, making the loud harsh cries of the corvid family. They come and they come and they come, as I stand staring up at the sky above my head, and I begin to think they will come forever, almost to believe this, then slowly the groups grow smaller, then a last few stragglers, and that's it, the sky now empty. Their cacophony rises and mingles with the sound of the church bells from the other side of the valley.