When the weather turns to bad it’s wise to go inside
To find a sheltered comfy place where you can then reside
But spare a thought for bird and beast who have no cosy nook
And hope tomorrow’s weather has a rather better outlook
As I left the house this morning I was treated to a pleasant little aria from a Song Thrush by the Fire Station. My luck would prove to be all in the beginning, as todays weather didn’t lend itself to active bird life. Several mouthy Robins were singing in Long Meadow, and I spied a silent Blackbird and a similarly quiet pair of Dunnocks beside the Wildlife Area, but soon all was eclipsed by the roar of the wind through the treetops.
Large Copse in particular reverberated with this noise, and very little activity seemed to be taking place. I spied a single small Velvet Shank clinging to a log, but that was all. Across Saxon Field, the wind had blown the Tor Grass flat, a bed of browns and greens all streaked in the same direction, with the odd stumpy Hawthorn or patch of Gorse protruding. Rather pretty, in its own way. A tiny Wren dived into the hedge next to me, only just caught by my peripheral vision.
I headed out further than usual, traversing Holcombe and the Herron Ground. There were scarce signs of animal life here, again the morning was dominated by the relentless howling of the wind. I did come upon a small patch of Rabbit droppings, and a few patches of Ivy supporting berries.
Arriving at Hogget Mead, I finally picked up the sound of birdsong. A small group of Great Tits and Blue Tits were enjoying the shelter of the terrain, and I enjoyed the change of background music as I passed through. On the Lighthouse Slope I spotted a pair of Carrion Crows, the first corvids I’d seen. You know it’s a rough day when even the Crows aren’t going out.
I hoped for similar luck at the Gulley, but unfortunately I was disappointed. After a few minutes of watching, I hadn’t made any sightings though I did make out the harsh screeching call of a Jay.
Atop the cliffs there was surprisingly rather more activity. Two Rock Pipits dived over the edge as I approached, though in this weather I’d say they’d have better luck tangling with me. The Guillemots had vacated the ledge, perhaps to ride out the rough weather out to sea. I glimpsed the tail of a Peregrine Falcon as it whizzed by, and best of all for a few seconds I saw something I didn’t think was possible: A Shag was gliding in the wind for a few brief, beautiful seconds.