All summer long the butterfly bar has served its patrons well
With leafy stools, purple glasses and pleasant floral smell
But now last orders have been called, so drink up and goodbye
The glasses now are turning brown, their nectar has run dry
A heavy sheet of stratiform cloud loomed above as I entered the park. A thin band of light was visible across the horizon where cloud and earth failed to meet. A medley of birdsong from the wildlife area indicated the presence of the bird ringing team, who’d made some impressive recordings. They’d nabbed two Nightjars before dawn, as well as Blackcaps, Grasshopper Warblers and a Tree Pipit that I got to see up close. I’m still not able to distinguish it from a Meadow Pipit though.
Toddling along through the woodlands I passed a patch of Rosy Crust, as well as no less than two Mystery Fungi which I will dash out and photograph as soon as I get a second. Continuing on to the Clifftops I walked past a few stems of Red Valerian, spying a Garden Warbler in the tangle of Wild Clematis above. The Buddleia here no longer throngs with butterflies, its flower heads turning brown one after the other.
The calls of a Kestrel echoed out over Durlston Bay as I rounded the head, a few Shags bobbing on the water below. A Green Woodpecker arced past the Great Globe as I walked by, vanishing from view after the briefest glimpse. I also noted a Rock Pipit on my travels which I managed to get a fairly good look at, usually they dive away from me pretty sharpish so that was nice.
As I strolled on a strange sound cut through the still morning and made me momentarily confused. It was an unfamiliar bird call that seemed almost comical in its affect. Tracing the source showed no less than a Peregrine Falcon on a ledge below. I suppose I suspected something a little more refined from such a majestic predator.
Treading carefully up the sheep paths of the Gulley a startled Roe Deer bounded away from me, showing a great deal more sure footedness than I. A few steps later I almost crushed a Bloody Nosed Beetle underfoot, swerving at the last moment to avoid it. On closer inspection I saw it was already dead, lying on its back with its legs crossed across its thorax. September comes indeed.