When I stepped onto the park today I was enveloped by a thick covering of incorporeal ghost fog that reminded me sardonically of Stephen King’s The Mist. I just hoped there would be no beastly tentacles lurking in the cover of the smog, waiting to snatch me in the murkiness.
As it turns out there were no monsters to be found on the park today, however there were Robins, Great tits, Dunnocks and Wrens chirping out their complaints about British weather to each other from the safety of the deep scrub. A brave lone Starling swooped through the dense air a little lost it seemed by its erratic movements.
Through to lighthouse field a dark, ominous Raven tried his hardest to feign inconspicuousness while masquerading amongst a group of burly Hereford Cows. I looked at him with concern and said ‘Mr. Raven! Behave! You’re not a cow!” To which he replied, with a distinct lack of enunciation: “Moo.”
Elsewhere Jays and Magpies squawked and cackled whilst flapping their colourful wings through the naked branches of Ash and Holm Oak that the odd gymnastic Grey Squirrel balanced on. Down on the cliffs a squadron of jacked up Jackdaws were squaring up to a posse of fearless Feral Pigeons, each moiety daring the other to make the first move with a series of increasing croaks and squawks. Legions of Guillemots huddled snuggly in on the ledges amongst the smuses of rock with a front row seat for the epic showdown as groups of excited Herring gulls and Great Black Backed Gulls circled above with betting slips clutched firmly in their bills.