Cows and brambles face off in their constant war to flourish
Today the bramble succeeds
It’s the king of the weeds
The cows it will not nourish
An unexpectedly cold morning greeted me on my arrival at Durlston. I ended up donning a jacket for my morning patrol, which seemed rather prescient. A few clacking Stonechats made their presence known as I headed towards Large Copse. Great Tits weaved in and out of the trees, and a Green Woodpecker flew in through the canopy, electing not to yaffle.
The meadows are beginning to look plainer now, with many of the more vibrant flowers having gone to seed. Fleabane still added a pretty array of yellow to my surroundings, and a closer look between browning stems revealed a few precious Eyebright flowers. For the first time in quite a while I felt and heard a visceral “squelch” as my foot hit the path. Another portent.
My walk along the drove was lined with twin walls of interlaced Bramble, Honeysuckle and Old Man’s Beard. Whitethroats called out softly, occasionally flashing their pale necks as they popped out of cover. A single Swallow arced across the sky near Brian Johnson Meadow. Looking for its friends perhaps?
Emerging onto the downlands amid the sound of Robins, the Hereford Cattle were grazing happily, the short grass punctuated by little islands of spiky briar, pretty much the only greenery the cows find unpalatable. Walking across the rolling terrain I could hear the grind and scrape of machinery in the quarry in the distance. An echo of the past.
Another fungi find today, with a cow pat playing host to a Drab Bonnet, as well as a tiny emerging Shaggy Ink Cap. On a more colourful note, there was an attractive array of butterflies on the wing. Red Admirals were to be seen throughout my journey, with the occasional Meadow Brown and Large White also making an appearance. Finally, just as I returned to the Learning Centre, a beautiful Painted Lady alighted on the scrub to my left.