Like the hair of a balding man the leafy canopy thins
Leaves are falling, brown and tan, blown down by restless winds
A shifting carpet beneath my heel, or damp and heavy midden
Half-naked branches now reveal a sky no longer hidden.
I was up at Durlston earlier than usual to do the first of the morning visitors surveys. The streetlights were glowing orange in the half-light of the morning as I approached. A few Wrens secreted themselves in the hedge alongside Long Meadow, with the calls of Robins and Great Tits audible from within the foliage. A Green Woodpecker undulated across the grass ahead as I swung down to the Castle.
The Car Park was well populated with the usual suspects of Durlston’s bird population. Magpies, Jackdaws and Carrion Crows took wing at my approach, with Wood Pigeons lingering a little longer before fluttering away.
Within the Woodlands I passed the festive looking leaves of young Holm Oaks, living up to their other name of Holly Oak. Also ever present were the smooth brown barked Sycamore and the outspread arms of the Macrocarpa. Jays were screeching away and as I walked over the thickening layer of leaves atop the path I found my eyes drawn upward to the sky, now plainly visible through the diminished canopy. Strange, I hadn’t noticed before today that so much leaf cover had gone.
A light rain had long begun to fall when I started my transit of the clifftops. Herring and Greater Black Backed Gulls rode the stiff breeze, with a flock of Jackdaws and the odd Shag also on the wing.
Walking that familiar path on this grey, windy and rainy day made me see the place in a very different light. When the sun is shining the park is an incredibly welcoming and hospitable place, full of birdsong, verdant flowers and life. On a day like today it looks desolate and wind-blasted, much more like a wilderness. Even so there’s a kind of haunting beauty to it, especially when you wander the path alone as I did.
As I passed the Tilly Whim caves an arrow-like slate coloured form arced rapidly overhead, diving down the edge of the cliffs and out of sight. A Peregrine Falcon, presumably on the hunt. I continued up the diagonal path and returned to the cover of the trees, the dull roar of the ocean fading from earshot behind me.