The world’s an ouroboros
Our world’s a tiny sphere
And like a withdrawn tortoise
We only see what’s near
A tiny glimpse of greater things
Each day the snake renews
Fresh hours and flowers this season brings
And to our sphere, fresh views
Today the park was experiencing an extraordinary weather phenomenon that I only have dim recollections of seeing before. I believe the term commonly used to describe these conditions is “dry”. Perching my binoculars on the fence of the Wildlife Area, I spied Bullfinch and Dunnock taking perches on Buddleia, Elder and Hawthorn.
I didn’t tarry for long, setting my sights on South Field I pressed on with my gaze turned downwards, scanning the blades beneath my boots for objects of interest. Among them I caught the purple glimmer of a Dog Violet, a single delicate Cowslip, a solitary Conical Brittlestem and a few Egghead Mottlegills. Wildlife spotting has become markedly easier now since the park is again above the water table.
Navigating the lanes a few Blackthorn were preparing to blossom, white buds becoming increasingly rotund as the petals swelled within their binding. A Magpie descended from the sky to bounce briefly on one of their branches, flickering its shimmering green tail before launching into the air again.
Stopping to converse with a visitor she reported Stonechats and a Wheatear, the first reported sighting this year to my knowledge. After saying our goodbyes I doubled back across the top of the Downs, closing in on the Lighthouse and the healthy crop of Early Scurvy Grass flourishing nearby.
At the Tilly Whim Caves I was met by Katie, who’d been out and about as well and come across a Greenfinch in her travels. Together we scanned the greenery above for reptiles. Above a few tendrils of Blackthorn I spotted one, a female based on the lack of silvery sheen (or so I am told.) After this we moved on to the Guillemots, massing on both ledge and wavetop.