It’s a grey morning with an orange band of light glowing upon the horizon. Soaring across the clouds are mass flocks of Woodpigeon which gather by the thousand. It’s an impressive sight to behold, not just for their number, but mesmerising to watch them move together as one.
Following a fairly consistent couple of weeks, temperatures have fallen by 4 degrees overnight, and a chilly breeze blows across from Swanage to the North. It’s a clear morning with views stretching as far as St Catherine’s Point, some 46km away on the Isle of Wight.
I set out into the Meadows, through the gateways of clay puddles and trampled mud. Here you can see the Redwing which have migrated this way overwinter for food. Berries still cling to branches dwindling with leaves. Along the hedgerows I find their favourite - the scarlet red Haws, alongside the ruby red Rosehips, and Sloes mottled blue to black.
The Blackberries have now all gone, foraged by the birds and fallen to the Badgers whose purple scats can be found along their usual runs. Chaffinch continuously chatter along my walk through South Field, and a Song Thrush calls for attention. Remarkably loud for just a medium-sized bird, it bellows out its song, repeating verses of various phrases in sets of four, before moving onto the next.
The Hereford Cows are grazing the rougher end of Saxon Field. It’s a little tricky to spot them between the humps of old quarry workings and the pockets of scrub. But every so often you can hear a Magpie churr – and sure enough these birds are strutting behind them, between the Yellow Meadow anthills, and eating any grubs unearthed in their wake.
Some flowers still to be found – emergent elegant Meadow Buttercup contrasting with the brutish Bristly Ox-Tongue. Handsome Yarrow with its clusters of white upon feathery leaves, and Red Clover providing welcome splash of colour upon the grass.