I arrive for this morning’s patrol to patchwork skies, slate-grey waters and the backlit mass of the Isle of Wight resembling the coils of a great world serpent.
A brief visit to the bird hide reveals a scene of relative quiet, as a Dunnock furtles at the base of the feeder, Robin, Great Tit and Blue Tit flit back and forth above and Goldfinch drop by to drink at the pond edge.
Approaching the weather station for today’s readings, a Magpie bounces away across the grass, while a pair of Herring Gull wheel above, raucous calls breaking the peace. As they drift away, the single-note piping of a Wren can once more be heard from the Blackthorn thicket, the scratching of Whitethroat floating over from South Field, all underpinned by the burble of Wood Pigeon.
Pausing at the edge of Lighthouse Field, a crop of Cowslips waft in the breeze, as a pair of Carrion Crow bounce in the canopy of Small Copse.
Ducking beneath the susurrating canopy of the Holm Oak woodland, the path is busy with Badger sign, and the verges full of the fresh spring growth of Stinking Iris, Lords-and-Ladies and Harts-Tongue Fern.
While new sections of path edging reveal the recent industry of our volunteers, older lengths of deadwood are wreathed in Atlantic Ivy, or coated in increasingly tired-looking Turkey-Tail Fungus.
Reaching the Castle, the northern verges have exploded with the prehistoric shoots of Horsetail, vying for space with the Nettles and Pink-sorrel. As I descend the Clifftop Trail, the whistling contact call of a Chiffchaff lifts from a Buddleia, before the warbler reverts to its usual self-referential refrain.
The feathery fronds of the ever-dancing Tamarisk are slowly re-greening below the Great Globe, and several patches of low-growing Greater Periwinkle have put out eye-catching lilac flowers.
On arrival at the observation point, a vast raft of Guillemot drift on the rolling swell, in excess of a hundred birds chattering, washing and diving and in the water.
Directly below me, our Fulmar have taken a break from their usual wheeling circuits, the mascara’d little albatross instead clinging to their grassy nesting ledge with its enviable views of Anvil Point Lighthouse.