A clump of Daffodils bask in the bright sunlight as I arrive for a morning patrol with a distinct springtime cast, a scattering of blossoms visible on approach to the Country Park.
Our resident quartet of Carrion Crows are methodically scouring the verges as I leave the Ranger Office, my appearance provoking a Magpie to hurriedly hop atop the cocks-and-hens of the drystone wall, rattling with consternation.
A scattering of Lawn Daisies across the grass resembles a botanical constellation as I approach the weather station to take the daily readings.
The Hawthorn scrub is quieter than at the start of the week, though the mellifluous trickle of Robin and strident ascendancy of Great Tit still emerge from the tangle.
Reaching the Lighthouse track, a stand of Burdock shivers in the breeze, the hooked ‘burrs’ waiting with infinite patience for passage to new destinations.
Descending the tarmac, the frenetic song of a Dunnock drifts from the Gorse, an underappreciated performance from an otherwise dowdy bird.
A carpet of lush Winter Heliotrope squats in a sheltered mining depression, while the Stinking Iris is now starting to bear the wear-and-tear of a long winter on its browning fronds.
On the verge, fresh green rosettes of Prickly Sow-thistle glisten with morning dew, while the same moisture leaves the feathery seeds of Old Man’s Beard left bedraggled and sodden atop the Bramble.
Assuming my usual position on Horseshoe Bridge, a male Blackbird powers away up the Gully at my appearance, while the dancing melody of a Skylark drifts down from the fields above.
As the birdlife acclimates to my presence, the undulating burble of a Woodpigeon sets a bass line to counterpoint the high notes of Chaffinch and Wren.
Joining the South West Coast Path, I flush the Lighthouse Jackdaws from their perch atop the bouncing Tamarisk.
Comparing notes as we cross paths at Anvil Point, former Durlston Ranger and local authority Hamish reports a quiet morning bar a scattering of Siskin.
A moment later however, a concerned croak from a Carrion Crow prompts me to look up, as one of our resident Peregrines beats a hurried traverse east, followed a minute later by its partner, the scimitar wings of these powerful falcons eating up the nautical miles.
Climbing the Clifftop Trail, I hear the bellicose chipping of male Stonechats, as these personal favourites of mine begin to carve out their tiny empires ahead of a busy breeding season.