After a chilly night (down to 3.5 degrees celsius), a beautiful winter morning, with scuffs of high cloud in a perfect blue sky. A gentle north-westerly breeze carrys the croaks of Jays and persistent two-note calls of Great Tits drifting across the meadows. Frost sparkles on the grass as the sun climbs above Blackthorn hedges and catches silvery trails of Old Man’s Beard.
In the woodland, Blue Tits chatter and churr, with the sharp ‘tuts’ of a Wren from a among a patch of Bamboo, joining the insistent song of Robins, with Song Thrush and Dunnock also heard. In the canopy, the piercing sound of a flock of Goldcrests – eventually spotted among the branches of a Sycamore by the flashes of their yellow crests.
On the woodland floor, fresh green leaves are already starting to appear, including Snowdrops, Spring Crocuses, Lords and Ladies and Primrose, with the bright orange seeds of Stinking Iris adding splashes of colour from within the hedgerows.
Above the Globe, the newly cleared ground is a contrasting carpet of the large, velvety leaves of Great Mullein, jostling for space with the fearsomely spiky leaves of Woolly Thistle, Bramble and Blackthorn. Over time, this area will be returned to grassland, but for now, the early colonisers - thugs and hooligans of the plant world, dominate.
The rising sun sparkles on the lapping waves of Durlston Bay, with the plaintive call of an Oystercatcher echoing off the cliffs, with a few Gannets, almost painfully brilliant white cruise by further out.
A Great Black-backed Gull flaps ponderously by, with a squadron of Guillemots heading westward, back to the ledges, for one of their winter visits.
Just outside the office window, a Great Tit is already investigating the London bollard – the hole left for a chain offering a potential nest-site, with Blue Tits also checking out the nest-box nearby.
Also seen this morning, a Kestrel hanging in the air above the Lighthouse Field and a flash of grey, as a Sparrowhawk swerves round a patch of scrub.