It all appeared quiet at the Bird Hide, with just a single Dunnock perched atop one of the feeding tables. Unaware that I was sat just a couple metres away, I could appreciate all the delicate details of this pretty bird’s plumage – from the dark black speckles mixed between its brown feathers, to the light grey underside which culminates around its neck and chin.
All of a sudden the bird darts to a feeder to the left, and scuffles with a Robin who appears from the pond’s edge. A quick scuffle and the Dunnock retreats to the hedgerow. The Robin stands atop an ant-hill as victor, pecking at the Ants and helping itself the peanuts. Great Tits can be heard singing as they watch on, alongside Blue Tits and Sparrows in the Hawthorn.
I stroll out through South Field and past the old rusty farm machinery in Saxon. The tuneful song of a Skylark can heard further into the meadows though sighting of the bird is lsot somewhere in the cloud.
Crows caw from the Small Copse, and Woodpigeons race by towards the Lighthouse. The Cows have now finished a few weeks of grazing in the Lighthouse Field and have done a brilliant job of munching the grassland down to nice short turf. This will encourage a rich diversity of wildflowers and grasses to grow in the Spring. But for now, it’s just me, the sunny-yellow Gorse, and a Wren eating bugs from a the Cow pat.
The winds picks up on my descent to the cliffs, defeating any warmth provided by the Sun. I can hear the Guillemots trill from as far as Tilly Whim, and spot them huddled on their rocky ledge and scattered out to sea. Three Fulmars loop to and from the cliffs, whilst a flock of Jackdaw soar above.
On my return to the office, I enjoy listening to the two-tone whistles of a Greenfinch.