Our siblings walked this storied land in epochs laid in stone
The land was theirs, those tyrant kings, none would challenge their throne
For aeons their feet shook the earth, they ruled it uncontested
Fur and feather cowered low, for scale could not be bested
Now our cousins walk no more, in rock they lie entombed
Frozen bones and claws and teeth waiting to be exhumed
and in this mausoleum, we their kin now make our home
Our cries echo the dinosaurs as we ride atop the foam
I ascended the entrance road to Durlston under the orange glow of lamplight, the bulbs above flickering out as the dawn broke fully. As much as I enjoy the longer days, I think I’ll miss the atmosphere of arriving this way. A pair of Roe Deer browsing on the verges turned tail and bounded off, skipping nimbly over the grass before disappearing into the bushes near the Wildlife Garden. A Hen Pheasant reacted similarly, running rather less gracefully in the opposite direction.
I decided on another fungi search (surprise surprise) as the first item on my agenda and set off back across the Car Park, a Magpie launching from an Ash tree ahead as I did so. A Carrion Crow followed behind, though I’m not sure if they were together or just happened to be going the same way.
Down through the Woodlands I spied Wrens, Blackbirds and the odd Dunnock, with the usual smattering of Blue Tits singing their myriad songs. A few hearty Yellow Ear Fungi were to be seen, as well as the odd Turkey Tail and a possible new Velvet Shank down at the “shed”.
Across the Clifftops the sounds of Guillemots drifted up from the waves below. The distinctive rapid slapping sounds of their wings on the water mixed with their saurian calls to create the soundscape I most associate with our shoreline. I quick chat with a few distinguished birdwatches on the way revealed other sightings. A female Peregrine Falcon had been seen, distinguished by her larger size as well as a Sparrowhawk, Bullfinches and a Woodcock. Not bad at all for the quiet months.
I returned via the diagonal path, surveying some of the damage done by the heavy rains. The worst sections have been attended to, but there is still more to be done. I came across the remains of a Southern Bracket at the apex of my climb, a brown black carcass that was ever so slowly crumbling to nothing. Long lived and long dead it seems.
Today’s diary written by Douglas Hart