After a few days away from the Country Park, the skies above Durlston are a near-perfect ceiling of cerulean this morning, though a fresh north-westerly reminds me how early into Spring we still are.
Ducking into the Learning Centre bird hide, a Chiffchaff is self-promoting with great gusto from the blossom-heavy Blackthorn, as Great Tit and Chaffinch flit back and forth to the feeder.
As I unlatch the weather station for today’s readings, a pair of Jay skim the tops of the scrub banks, these brilliant corvids more often lurking invisibly in the depths of the Holm Oak woodlands.
Arriving at the top of the Lighthouse track, two pairs of Meadow Pipits dance in the air, the waters beyond them an undulating background of blue.
Drawing parallel with the derelict quarrying capstan, I believe I catch a fleeting glimpse of one of our Cirl Buntings, a Red-Listed bird it’s a privilege to observe in the National Nature Reserve. Below me, a metallic flash is resolved through my binoculars into a pair of Goldfinch foraging in the turf.
Approaching the Horseshoe Bridge, the cascading song of Chaffinch pours from the Gully, as a bickering duo of Robins arch their backs and cock their tails on the stone wall ahead.
The strident notes of competing Blackcap approach a cacophony as they burble out their territorial claim, near-drowning out the Robin, Song Thrush and Dunnock. In front of me, the fresh green spears of Elder leaves push past their insulating winter coat of Old Man’s Beard, while the songs of Skylarks drift down from Saxon Field.
Reaching the South West Coast Path, a carpet of delicate Scurvy Grass has emerged below the finger post, alongside the lush leafage of Sea Beet. Stopping to chat to a visitor about their Guillemot and Razorbill sightings en-route to an optimistic Dancing Ledge visit for Puffins, I realise I’m running out of time on this morning’s patrol.
After a brief report from another visitor that the Black Redstart has returned to their favoured haunt by Tilly Whim, I track back up the eastern edge of the Gully on a desire line heavy with Roe Deer ‘slots’, spotting the tapered scat of a Red Fox.
Crossing Saxon at pace into South Field, the pleached stems of this winter’s laid Hawthorn hedge are bursting into leaf, as Old Harry Rocks and distant Bournemouth glitter in the spring sunshine.