Was it because of a heading here recently, "Carnival of the Wild Boars", telling of the depredations of these animals in the unlikely setting of the town of Nice in France, that a letter to Y opens simply: "A company of boars"? Anyway, the writer then goes on to say that there are some lovely collective nouns in the English language. He lists many, beginning with a single of swine, a sounder of boar, a skulk of foxes, a pride of lions, a fall of 'cock (presumably woodcock), a spring of teal, a wisp of snipe, a murmur(ing) of starling. Stop there a minute. Wouldn't you expect starlings to do anything but murmur? Screech, maybe, but our friend has good sources. And anyway, to judge by an article in BBC Wildlife magazine, there has been a population crash among this bird in Britain, which has reduced by half and more in numbers between the early 1970s and 1997.
On with our friend's list: a congregation of plover (certainly lapwing, he notes), a skein of geese, that is when they are in the air. On water they become a gaggle. Pheasant collectively make, he writes, a nye, while quail come in a bevy. Then the letter goes on to say that better known are a school of porpoise, a pod of whales, a shoal of fish, and a flight of duck. "There must be many more than these, most of which I learnt nearly 60 years ago from the writing of Conan Doyle." And the purveyor of this interesting, indeed fascinating, list of collective nouns is Henry Horsman of Arklow; for which many thanks. And, right enough, it could be the stuff of fireside chat to add to the list. For example, what do we say for a group of badgers? Or squirrels? Or hedgehogs? Rabbits, too. And, of course, hares. Then there are otters and, unfortunately, mink. Foxes must have many more collectives put on them though they are, apart from rearing time, so often loners.
As to birds, flocks covers a multitude, though tits deserve a special designation. Recently a score-and-a-half of the most attractive of them all, the coal tits, were around the bird-feeders in a swarm like midges. Finally, what about weasels? A reviewer in the English Countryman quoted from Ted Hughes: The weasel never waits to wonder what he's after/It's butchery he wants and blood, and merry belly laughter.