Along the muddy track, the Cows are now grazing in South field and round the back of the Warden’s cottage. As I approach, they follow each other, one by one through the gate, hooves squelching as they sink into the mud. The littles are far more wary of me than the bigs: They wait in trepidation before plucking the courage for a sheepish canter against the scrub and getting tangled in the Bramble as they go.
Over winter they will be moved around each of the fields: Helping us maintain our ecologically rich wildflower meadows and limestone grassland, which lend us the title ‘National Nature Reserve’. The next field along has already been mown down to a short turf: It reveals the countless little humps of Anthills, between which, the Magpies wander in the search for breakfast. Some late-season botanical delights remain – a few stubby Ox-eye Daisies and a single Greater Knapweed whose purple petals contrast to the otherwise dull-coloured landscape.
Next, into the Lighthouse Field, the unmistakeable ‘chak chak’ from a Stonechat, just like two stones being knocked together. I follow the line of the dry stone wall and admire the display of crimson-red Haws. I see a flock of Blue Tits emerge upon the otherwise barren Elder and along the way hear Dunnock, Robin, and Chaffinch from somewhere within the thicket of Blackthorn and wilted Sloes. Overhead, some larger corvids - a couple Crows, Jay, and a Raven.
Yet more Crows cawing as my boots slip and slide their way across the next field above the gully. This time the vocals are backed by the gentle chirping of Goldfinch which flock across the ravine. Stepping down towards the footbridge I find a remarkable l display of crimson Rosehips by the footbridge. Here, an old Hawthorn cowers under the weight of Clematis and Ivy.
Next I follow an awkward route through the long grass which sees my boots soaked with dew. However the passage is fruitful in finding a beautiful Holly tree decorated with berries, and at least I’m safe from Ticks this time of year.