I was greeted on the park this morning by swathes of Speckled Woods, Small Heaths, and Gatekeepers enjoying once again the bright sunshine they had until recently perhaps come to take for granted. The memory of the thorough greyness over the weekend likely already erased from their tiny minds, they shared the prime real estate of large Burdock leaves, reminiscent of the ears on an elephant, which would appear to make fantastic sun loungers. Shooting overhead was a single Emperor Dragonfly, who was surely after a meal waiting for him somewhere above our chalky slopes. These restless insects are similar to Swifts in their aversion to inactivity, they rarely settle, even eating their catch on the wing.
Lining my route onwards through Durlston were Wild Carrot and Wild Parsnip, both now beginning to seed. The former I can rarely resist pulling up from time to time in order to get a good sniff of the root, the latter best left well alone. That is unless you have a penchant for large painful blisters.
As I progressed towards the coast I noticed the numbers and activity of birds beginning to increase. Adding to the post-dawn chorus were Blackbirds, Tits of the Blue, Great, and Long Tailed variety, as well several screeching Peregrines somewhere down the cliffside.
Shooting down seawards in near formation was a Clattering of Jackdaws, their movements appearing chaotic yet choreographed, and the racket they created justifying their collective name.
A hundred metres inland, in stark contrast to the commotion caused by this collection of Corvids, a Kestrel held its position above the downs, scanning for small mammals and large insects.
My walk ended with the sight of a Stoat (or was it a Weasel?) scampering across the footpath near to the dry stone walling centre. While the glimpse I received was too brief to ID for sure, Stoats can usually be differentiated from Weasels by their shorter tail which has a black tip, and that they are generally larger and bulkier.
Today’s diary written by Cameron MacInnes