Moving together, passing low
the birds fly by in train
They speak in tones I do not know
Strangers they shall remain
Then Goldfinches call out to me
And this language I speak
The birds themselves I need not see
For their call is unique
There were a lot of small flocks of birds on the wing this morning, passing overhead or flitting between the boughs of trees. Catching a decent glimpse was tough so I let my ears do as much of the work as possible. Goldfinches were the most prolific, with a few Chaffinches, Great Tits and a Chiffchaff seen but not heard. A Wren sheltered in the heart of a patch of Buddleia and the ground was strewn with browning fallen Ash leaves, dislodged by yesterday’s high winds.
A few Yarrow were still in flower in the Car Park as I headed towards the Castle. The clean-up crew were in after a weekend of weddings and I thought it’d be nice to see if they needed anything. Last night’s guests really raised the roof, so I savoured the tranquillity of the morning, the cool crisp air and high cirrus clouds feeling very soothing.
After checking on the crew I headed out round Durlston Head, pausing to take in the impressive sight of hundreds of Herring and Greater Black Backed Gulls bobbing up and down on the waves. Presumably something edible was stirred up by last night’s weather and the Gulls were there to capitalise.
A few Hemp Agrimony were dispersing seed along the Coast Path and as I looked over the side of the Observation Point a Kestrel launched into the air just meters below me. I must have startled it. A Shag flew westward below and a couple of Pied Wagtails bobbed through the skies above.
Venturing up through the gulley I ran into one of Durlston’s bird experts who proceeded to show up my substandard spotting skills as usual. He indicated to a passing flock as I fumbled with my binoculars. “Meadow Pipits.” He said. On our right a pair of Raptors skimmed over the downs. I struggled to focus on them, guessing as I tried to draw a bead: “Peregrine?” “Sparrowhawks.” He corrected. Just before they disappeared over the brow of the hills I focussed my binoculars enough to see a brown smudge. Brown. I would have got it.