It’s a welcome calm morning, following the strong winds that rattled through Durlston at start to the week. Elm leaves have finally changed colour, and now reflect a brilliant yellow in the low Sun’s light. They scatter as golden shadows cast in lee of the prevailing wind.
It feels like a quiet start, save for the startled flapping of Woodpigeon wings alerted to my presence, but sure enough the others birds steadily make themselves known…
It starts with the Jackdaws squeaking amongst the treetops, their chatter then interrupted by rapid Wren call. A couple of Great Tits begin to tweet as they flow between the branches, encouraging the shy Goldcrest to whistle its tune. A Robin breaks into song as it watches on from the Hawthorn, though a Dunnock doesn’t find the courage and disappears into the scrub.
A break in the trees reveals the glow of the Sunrise. It shines beyond a band of cloud which hangs above a crisp horizon: Silhouettes of cargo ships outlined by the light. The view draws me down to the cliffs where the Fulmars fly. It’s mesmerising to watch the three birds looping to and from the cliffs.
Guillemots are gathered upon their rocky cliff ledge. Black and white bodies appearing huddled together, with one of two birds occasionally taking flight. Below, almost hugging the wave crests flowing into the rocks, a Shag patrols past, beating its lofty big black wings.
‘Cronk, cronk, cronk’ a Raven is heard as I move towards the Lighthouse. The Sun alighting the slopes, and glistening upon the dew. Gorse has began to flower and will build in intensity through the Winter. I check on the Herefords, who are grazing upon the grasslands. A couple of Cows enjoy a good scratch using the Quarr’s spack.
Last night, a Tawny Owl was heard as we made our way down to the annual Friends of Durlston Christmas party at the Castle.