As we approach the winter solstice, my morning commute is now made in full darkness, dawn only emerging as a band of subdued orange on the far horizon as I reach the park boundary.
The deceptively delicate silhouette of a Kestrel glides across Lighthouse Road as I enter the Country Park, subtle trimming of its wings enough to manoeuvre the falcon through the stands of Sycamore framing the road.
Leaving the Learning Centre, a Robin flits across the path ahead of me, alighting in a Hawthorn still heavy with fruit.
The burbling rumble of a Wood Pigeon drifts from Reservoir Copse as I descend towards the Pleasure Grounds, the rattling of Great Tits, Blue Tits and Wren rising at my approach.
The gloom beneath the Holm Oaks is notable, a gloomy dawn exacerbated by the evergreen canopy.
Through a gap in the treeline, a garrulous Great Black-blacked Gull croaks as it follows the cliff-line north.
Turning right to reach the Castle, a quartet of Jackdaw flap overhead, while the high tinkles of Goldcrest, Firecrest and Long-tailed Tit emanate from the verdant undercliff.
I descend the Clifftop Trail, traversing the banked French drains deftly repaired by our Rangers and volunteers. Below, the water crashes onto the rocky shore of Durlston Bay below, the surface cross-hatched by the opposing forces of swell and No’westerly wind.
The yellowing Tamarisk fronds shiver in the cool breeze, their damp trunks appearing almost fire-blackened.
Off-shore, the white bib of a Cormorant flashes as it powers its way north. Casting my gaze south-west towards Anvil Point, a pair of Fulmar wheel and bank, while at sea-level a steady stream of Guillemot embark for a morning’s fishing out in the Channel.