A quick downward swoop before a Kestrel hovers in the sky: It’s wings outstretched and steady, but making constant minor wing adjustments to hold the birds head perfectly still. It studies the ground meticulously from above the cattle’s field, monitoring every movement amongst the turf on the hunt for prey.
The refurbished capstan and spack are looking smart at the quarr - an insight into the history of these small quarries which are scattered across the Purbeck hills. The spack was turned by a donkey, which pulled the chain around the capstan, and winched a cart loaded with Purbeck stone from the shaft below.
The sound of Stonechats fill the soundscape as I descend the slopes towards the Lighthouse, with a Roe Deer in the distance. I find dashes of yellow scattered along this trail with Toadflax and Dandelion speckled between the grasses and thickets of flowering Gorse. Occasionally one of the Stonechats will appear from these patches of scrub, usually perching atop the emergent Hawthorn.
As I approach the cliff edge, a Peregrine bursts into flight and sound: Loud shrill screeches fill the valley. She is joined by a second, smaller, male Peregrine, and together they continually loop back and forth across the gully mouth, the female a racket of noise with each pass.
I continue my walk along the clifftop where dead seed heads of Sea Aster and Teasel quiver in the wind. Fulmars, Shags, and Woodpigeon on the wing, above some 60 Guillemots on the water. Every now and then another bird joins the raft, their stubby wings (built for diving) lending themselves to ungracious splash-landing amongst the pack.
On my return up the hill, I cannot resist a quick look down by the dell bridge; beckoned on down by the tweeting Great Tits and a Robin’s song. Here, sheltered from the breeze, my ears become attune to faintest sounds; a Dunnock churning through the leaf mulch, the gentle piping from a Bullfinch, and the flutter of feathers where two Chaffinch jostle in flight.