When the grass is gone, the cows move on, it’s what their instincts say
Whether West or East matters not in the least as long as there’s grass that way.
The ground turns to mud under the endless thud of the cattle’s cloven hooves
The Hereford band moves on to new land till their old stamping ground improves.
The bird ringers had set up in the Wildlife Area this morning despite the drizzle. They’d amassed an impressive array of captures including Redwings, Goldcrests and a Starling, unusual for Durlston. Heading out on to the meadows, I spied a few Blackbirds and Blue Tits, with the occasional Robin perched on a twig as if posing for a Christmas card.
The path to Large Copse was churned up terribly by our Herefords, and I made the best of my way over to the trees, boots squelching noisily. A Dunnock dived into the hedgerow on my approach, apparently startled by my ungainly ambulation.
By the time I got to Saxon Field, the rain had started again, adding to the drab ambience of the morning. A few wilting Fleabane lined the path, their flowers long dried and withered. Centenary Meadow was a little livelier, with several Common Puffballs popping their round heads out of the grass.
Approaching the Gulley I passed several Bristly Ox Tongue, as well as a few Field Scabious, some Hemp Agrimony clustered by a dry stone wall with a Wren seated above.
The Cliffs were a delight as always, with Rock Pipits diving over the edge, a few pleasantly blooming Gorse bushes, and two tiny birds skimming over the waves, their wings flapping like mad. I didn’t need my binoculars to tell me they were Guillemots. More early arrivals it seems. Next, a Herring Gull coasted past close by, seemingly without a care in the world.
Walking back through the woodlands, trembling foliage indicated the passage of Grey Squirrels above my head. A few Hartstongue Ferns protruded from the undergrowth. The path here was also rather boggy. I’d better crack on and sort out the drainage channels before the next bit of heavy rain comes.