I see a speeding UFO approaching low and fast
A blur of wing, plumage and colour swiftly flying past
I feel as if I’ve just performed a step for all mankind
For I have just borne witness to a close encounter – of the bird kind
High cirrus cloud graced the sky this morning as I began my journey, the sounds of Whitethroats scratchy songs in my ears. A House Sparrow swooped low, passing within a few feet of me as it swooped into the Wildlife Area. I half heard, half felt the reverberation of its wings as it whipped by before vanishing into the mass of Hawthorn and Elder beyond the fence. Dunnocks danced behind green foliage, and I steadily attuned my ears to the sounds of Wren, Chiffchaff, Chaffinch and Blue Tit.
Heading first to the Saxon Field, I noted prominent growths of Common Vetch and Medic atop a Yellow Meadow Ant mound before passing into the shade of the Large Copse. Emerging on to Taskers Meadow my eyes swept over the still present mass of Cowslips, a dozen or so Jackdaws stalking amongst them. Something about this made me feel a little uneasy. Yellow and black together are typically warning colours in nature. Were I the superstitious type I might read further into this.
Skylark and Song Thrush were both singing for all they were worth over the Saxon Field. A new richer yellow of Birds Foot Trefoil was steadily supplanting the creamier Cowslips, while our Early Spider Orchids are taking their final bow. I came across one that resembled a miniature fallen tree, having toppled over with its stalk too weak to support it.
Moving directly down into the Gulley I had another close encounter with a bird, this time a Swift whisking by within metres and flashing its profile just long enough for me to get a firm ID. It’s all about the tail. Horseshoe Vetch was particularly prolific on the sunny slopes, with a lone Ox Eye Daisy standing tall above. Other encounters included Wall Browns, Common Blues and best of all, my beloved Eyebright.
At the base of the Gulley I ran into a certain bird expert who gave me a quick tutorial on how to spot the ever elusive Yellowhammer. He pointed out a spot where a male had been seen singing practically every day. Predictably it was absent on this occasion. It’s OK, I need only wait. The Yellowhammer will come. The Yellowhammer will come.