Dry stone walls are man-made yet they don’t look out of place
Clad in fronds of ivy, from capstone down to base
This morning I was greeted by a trio of Robins, hopping around on the grass by one of the picnic benches. Calls from Wood Pigeons, Great Tits, Blue Tits and a Dunnock were also audible.
Entering South field I heard the distant crows of a Cockerel, though the sun was well up by this point. The rattling calls of Magpies met my ears, as well as the delightful musical tones of a Song Thrush, hidden inside the branches of an Elder tree.
In the Saxon field a Blackbird nestled on top of a Bramble thicket, it’s thorny stems draped in Old Man’s Beard. Beside the gate a Great Tit was having trouble finding it’s rhythm, it’s song coming in short sporadic bursts instead of the usual repeating refrain. As I approached, it switched to emitting it’s alarm call. I didn’t feel like I posed much of a threat, but I’ve been told I look a bit of a state in the mornings so maybe it was justified. Nearby, Goldfinches and Chaffinches were also to be seen.
Circling through Centenary meadow a single Raven was perched atop a Hawthorn. I then travelled down milepost slope to the cliffs. A Shag flew by as I made my way to the Guillemot ledge. I counted around 60 – 70 on the ledge, with a further 30 – 40 in the water, as well as a small group of 5 Razorbills floating a little apart from them. The call of the Guillemots was clearly audible, and to my ear seems to possess a vaguely saurian quality.
Returning along the Clifftop Trail the trees were lined with Jackdaws, evoking the feeling of a Hitchcock film.