Sometimes coming back from a week off its like returning after not being here for a year. Things have been cut paths have been cleared or gullied by the rain. It feels like winter has really snuck its teeth into the park now. Heading down past the gully a look down shows the sea of Mares Tail having been beaten and battered by the high winds and heavy rain over the last week, as it all weakly flops to one side.
Below the bridge the rasping call of a Great Tits can be heard calling back and forth to each other. Two smaller and quieter Goldcrest flit amongst the branches of a Holm Oak just below coming within touching distance of me, before flitting further down.
The wind picks up heading round the headland Tamarisk fronds whipping feverishly. Two Great Black Backed Gulls soar past quietly seemingly unaffected by the wind. Two Guillemots lounges around on the rough water below. A few more fly over the other heads, wings beating feverishly to keep themselves airborne. The ledge is almost a full house today everyone cramming themselves in to shelter from the wind.
Up the other side of the gully a Peregrine Falcon soars past along the cliffs top, spoking a small flock of Feral Dove, who take off as one flapping and chattering in their rush to get away. The Peregrine swoops back around coming up over the light house and mile marker before disappearing out of sight.
Up the light house road checking the electric fence as I pass. The Hereford Cattle are happily grazing away on the gully slopes unaware they have the best view in the park. A mother and calve are stopped in the middle of the road, the mother fussing over its baby licking behind it ears, the poor calve almost looking embarrassed well as embarrassed a cow can look.
Heading back towards the Leaning Centre a Song Thrush calls sings its ever-changing melody from somewhere in the scrub.