A heavy frost coast the park in a silvery blanket, with a thick layer of fog over the top like a duvet keeping the cold in and warm sunlight out. The fog is so thick while approaching the coat path I can hear the sea but can’t see it down below.
The thick frost coating everything dramatically transforms the landscape in a magical winter wonderland, though most of the bird life is sheltering from the cold in the depths of the scrub not to be seen or heard. A lone Wren hops out of a particularly dense patch of Tamarisk, it sings at the top of its lungs little tail waggling in the air.
As we watch the Wren Fern smells something and turns to face the cliffs edge ears pricked, I look over to see two Roe Deer grazing on the frozen grass. As they spot us, they spoke and seem to run of the cliff as they take a well-hidden track down to the lower section of the cliff.
We continue along the coast path, a large flock of Feral Dove wooshes on past turning in different directions erratically and with no destination in mind. They come to rest at the tops of the cliffs in a semi-circle like they are having a team meeting. Below a Shag soars on past low to the water heading towards the castle.
The sun is just starting to burn through the fog now warm sunlight streaming in were the cloud covers breaks. A Rock Pipit breaks cover and flies across the path behind the dry-stone wall.
We head back through south field for a warming cup of tea and for fern to lounge in front of the heater. The familiar sound of Sky Lark fills the air, an unusual sound to hear this time of year though it is unmistakable. It breaks cover from one end of the field flying across and calling before disappearing into some scrub the other end on of the field.