A beautiful sunrise with radiating rays of light breaking through the layers of stratus cloud upon the sea. It alights the grey water with patches of gold, which slowly move around with the flowing cloud.
Goldfinch pass overhead in ones, twos, threes, and fours. Their high-pitched twittering drawing your eyes upward to watch their dawdling flight. Each sinking swoop is followed by a quick burst of fluttering wings, keeping them afloat in the air.
Much more determined in its flight is the Kestrel. This bird of prey doesn’t miss a beat, as it makes a beeline for its destination, towards the Lighthouse.
This morning’s chorus is lead by continually calling Robins, and supported by a mixture of Great Tit churrs, and squeaks of Meadow Pipit. Every now and then a Blackbirds sounds, and their movement can be heard from within the thickets on Blackthorn.
Heavier movements sound from the hedges around Saxon; the more clumsy breaking of twigs where the Hereford’s force their way through the scrub. They are drawn to the tasty Ivy leaves which only grow on the walls right at the back.
A medley of mooing commences as I walk across the field. I pause to say hello, and the herd quietens down to continue eating. It’s satisfying sound to hear the ripping of grass where they munch away at the turf. Tidings of Magpie follow behind, and the odd strutting Pheasant: All scavenging for insects turned out in the cow’s wake.
I head further out into meadows, through the muddy gateways and across the damp fields, checking upon various dry stone walling projects being rebuilt by volunteers, with my socks get progressively more wet.