A still, steely morning, with just a hint of pale winter sun peeping through streaks of motionless silver-grey cloud overhead.
The faintest breath of wind stirs dry clumps of Tor Grass in the Lighthouse Field and hisses softly among the fallen leaves in the woodland, but otherwise the only sounds are bird calls and song and the murmur of the sea.
Along the cliffs, Guillemots are crammed onto the ledges, their heads in constant motion, as they enjoy the company of the neighbours after an autumn at sea. A few whir in and out on flickering wings, as a Great Black-backed Gull circles below them on huge, broad wings.
Herring Gulls, Common Gulls and Mediterranean Gulls also on the wing this morning, with a single Gannet passing by in the distance – bright white on a grey morning.
Down on Tilly Whim ledge, a Black Redstart skitters across the rocks – almost invisible until a sudden movement reveals his characteristic rusty red tail. A few Rock Pipits also bob along the clifftop.
In the hedgerows and scrub, Blackcaps, Blue and Great Tits, Long-tailed Tits, Robins, Dunnocks and Wrens are all out looking for food as the morning brightens. Dozens of Jays seen around the park, shattering the silence with their harsh croaks as they wrench acorns from the Holm Oaks, or bury them for later in the soft ground – most baby oaks in the UK are ‘planted’ by forgetful Jays!
As I write, the scrub and grass outside my window is bustling with activity. A flock of 60 or 70 Starlings (not an especially common bird here) glide in on their triangular ‘delta wings’ to settle in a patch of bare Blackthorn, hopping up and down the branches as they jostle for position. Nearby, a pair of Jackdaws swagger across the grass, a single Wood Pigeon waddles it’s way around the ‘fossil wall’ and a Green Woodpecker bobs past, as if on elastic.