Jackdaws, Gulls and Fulmars ride the updraft by the Cliff
Some flap, some swoop, some circle, some keep both wings stiff
Buzzards soar on thermals, feathers spread at tip of wing
Perched atop a throne of air, the Buzzard is the king
I took a moment this morning to sit at a picnic bench before setting out. The eight o’clock sun was already noticeably warm against my skin as I admired a few Ox Eye Daises, Scarlet Pimpernel, Herb Robert flowers and some stems of Crosswort. A Buzzard loomed high above, making fine use of the thermic weather conditions. I did the sensible thing and made for the cool of the Woodlands, catching a brief but welcome glimpse of red and black on the way. A Red Admiral.
My brief detour into the woods didn’t turn up that much of interest, it still being too early for abundant fungal finds. I did stumble across a small cluster of Wolf’s Milk. I know it’s a slime mould, not a fungi but you take what you can get. There was also a small patch of Lawn Daises growing next to a section of dry stone wall. I spent a moment wondering how they could have gotten there.
The Coast Path was flourishing under the sunlight, though conditions looked a little parched. Caravan Terrace was slowly being overrun with Clematis, with Bramble and Dog Rose pleasantly flowering alongside. Back on the Clifftop Trail, Common Vetch, Chalk Milkwort and Mallow were pleasingly purple alongside the buffet selection of Charlock, Wild Carrot and Meadow Barley. Thrift and Sea Campion rounded out this impressive selection of coastal flora.
To my right, a Whitethroat rose up from a patch of Gorse in full musical display. It seems you can’t avoid these rowdy little singers at the moment. Further away in the Woodlands I discerned the two tone call of a Chiffchaff, as well as the freestyle musical trills of a Robin.
On the water below me two small sailing craft made their way westward over the calm seas. A motorboat rumbled past them eastward and further out in the channel half obscured by mist a container ship moved purposefully landward. I seemed to be keeping pace with the sailboats as I walked, their sails only partially filled by the weak wind. Something about their gentle bobbing progress resonated with me. When it comes to the ocean, sailing really is the only way to travel.