Arriving for this morning’s patrol, I’m spoilt with blue skies and a gentle breeze. As I emerge from my van, I’ve miraculously managed to avoid the Brown-lipped Snail trundling across the tarmac between my tyres, and swiftly move the mollusc to the relative safety of the verge.
Putting me to shame as usual, Durlston’s bird ringers are already well-entrenched when I arrive, reporting a wide variety of recorded species including ‘Grooper’ (Grasshopper Warbler), Lesser Whitethroat, Redstart and Wheatear, as well as a flyover from a Tree Pipit.
As I head toward the lighthouse track, Greater Whitethroat scratch from the Blackthorn scrub, as Red Admiral flit and Buff-tailed Bumblebee crash between the creamy blossoms.
Pausing at the top of the track, a male Stonechat perches on the stone seat in front of the mile markers, russet chest and vicar’s collar glowing in the warm sunshine, while Chaffinch chirp from the scrub, and the melodies of Skylark drift over from Saxon Field.
Since my last patrol, a healthy crop of Early Purple Orchid have joined the Early Spider Orchids and Cowslips in the cattle-cropped turf of Lighthouse Field.
Entering the Holm Oak woodland, the tinkling of a charm of Goldfinch drifts down through the evergreen canopy as the strident tones of Wren, metronomic Chiffchaff and ubiquitous Robin-song emerge from the undergrowth.
Breaking out onto the open slopes of the Clifftop Trail, a profusion of epicormic growth has burst from the base of a trackside Sycamore, the dense maroon leafage suggesting a tree under stress, while its neighbouring Sessile Oak is flush with fresh green foliage.
A solitary Long-tailed Tit flits across the path to share a wind-sculpted Hawthorn with a vigilant Blackbird before, after months of recordings, I finally see my first Durlston Bullfinch, the male bird’s ruby breast unmistakable.
The season has finally shifted to match the ever-sunny carpet of flowering Gorse across the Clifftop. As I pass Tilly Whim, a Meadow Pipit perches on a limestone outcrop, chirruping contentedly.
Below me, a small raft of seabirds catches my eye as they dive, and bringing my binos to bear, a group of five Razorbill shift into focus, distinct from our more populous Guillemots on account of their heavier bills with their fetching white racing-stripes.