Drizzle is as drizzle does
Drizzle drizzles just because
Drizzle dampens down the day
Drizzle, drizzle go away
A heavy fog hung over the landscape this morning, a slow relentless drizzle dampening everything it touched to the core. Long Meadow’s birdlife was largely confined to the hedgerows, with Robins, Blackbirds, Wrens and Blue Tits scarcely leaving the shelter of Dogwood, English Oak and Blackthorn.
Walking down the timeline I heard the yaffle of a Green Woodpecker from within the Woodlands, but the caller remained elusive. Little was stirring in the way of plant life, but fresh Candlesnuff Fungus had sprouted on the log borders of the path by the Castle. Well done to the work party for the repairs on it last Tuesday.
Along the Clifftops the drizzle continued, grounding all avian activity and levying an eerie silence on the landscape. A single Greater Black Backed Gull sat on a ledge looking out to sea with a distinctly nonplussed expression. Or maybe I’m projecting. Anvil Point Lighthouse was flashing its beacon in the face of the weather, but no fog horns were heard from passing ships. Looks like everyone is keeping their head down.
I headed past the Tilly Whim Caves and towards the Lighthouse. The Wild Apple stood entombed as ever within a cage of Elder and Blackthorn scrub. I clambered past and headed towards the bridge. As I approached I picked up the repeating notes of a Song Thrush, twittering out a quick performance before abruptly departing. I’m glad I was able to catch it. Scanning around for more notables I was drawn to the dancing leaf of a Sycamore which was doing an excellent impression of a bird.
Finishing the ascent to the learning centre I spied Carrion Crows, Magpies and Dunnocks making fleeting flights in the rain. As I finished my climb it occurred to me that for the first time in I don’t know how long, I hadn’t seen a Jackdaw in my travels. Lo and behold, there was one waiting for me by the bins. You’ve got to hand it to the Jackdaws, they’re very reliable.