A lovely frosty morning to crunch my way in across the meadows, where the frozen grass sparkles in the low morning sun, beaming out from a horizon swathed in ruddy cloud and a sky of purples and reds.
A Fox trots along Taskers path just a few yards ahead of me – glancing over his shoulder, then continuing along, unbothered.
Birds start to emerge, as the sun warms the scrub, with a large, bustling family of Long-tailed Tits already busy along the hedgerow in Taskers meadow, weaving in and out of a tangle of silver Old Man’s Beard. Robins, Wrens, Great Tits and Chaffinches are also starting to feed, with the magnificent red breast of a Bullfinch looking superb from the depths of the dark brown scrub around the Large Copse.
A Jay squawks from among the canopy, as a Dunnock scuffles through the woodchip path.
Sloes are starting to shrivel and turn from midnight blue to almost black (they say the best Sloe Gin is made from Sloes picked after the first frost!).
Along the clifftop, a Peregrine Falcon, perched just beyond the wall, turns her head to watch me walk by, before returning her gaze to the sea.
Below the cliffs, the weird ‘creaking door’ call of a passing Shag is an unusual sound – fairly quiet for most of the year, they become more vocal with the approach of breeding season (around January).
A flock of 30 or so Woodpigeons clatter past just above head height, with a squabbling gang of Jackdaws seen circling Tilly Whim.
Herring Gull and Great Black-backed Gull also on the wing, though otherwise fairly quiet, except for the gentle lapping of the waves.
The peace shattered by the ‘cronk’ of a Raven, perched on top of the Mile Markers and a Blackbird, bursting out of the undergrowth as I re-enter the woodland.