I am greeted by a medley of birdsong on arrival at the park. Robins sing and Blue Tits chime together; versing through sequence of three chirps then into a churr, which is echoed by the nearby Great Tits. At a lower pitch, the warbling from a Blackbird and endless tweeting from a Wren.
Taking centre stage of course is a Song Thrush who serenades me through verses of different calls in sets of four, each completely different to the last. Some sounding quite creative and playful as the bird varies pitch and tone, whilst others simple yet sweet.
I search for a little while to sight the bird amongst the thicket of budding Blackthorn and distraction of a Dunnock. It takes a little while, but I eventually catch a glimpse of its mottled brown and white feathers atop the emergent Hawthorn. It’s an impressive sight to watch such a small ordinary bird perform such a loud and impressive vocal range.
I leave the muddy footpaths for Lighthouse Field where the Herefords have imprinted the slopes with hoof prints and caked he road with cow pats. They munch down on the grasslands, shredding the grass and leaving turfs of Bramble and exposed anthills in their wake. Between the sniffles and drools, it’s quite a satisfying noise to listen to. The Jackdaws follow behind, cackling as they scamper through the tracks on the hunt for a turned out Earthworms and other critters.
A mosaic of yellow adorns the coastal downs where the sunny Gorse flowers bloom. There’s a cool breeze which carries their coconut-scent along the clifftop. A temperature drop and hazed sunrise means there’s no chance of spotting an Adder at Tilly whim. Just the pitter-patter of water dripping in the cave.
Peering over the dead head Teasels and leafless stems of Honeysuckle, more Jackdaws clatter along the cliff edge above the looping flights of Fulmars and lofty-winged Shags. Ravens sound determined croaks and fly with purpose as they prepare nesting sites. A charm of Goldfinch overhead.