Bird feeders swing with the roaring winds, each gust shimmers in waves across the surface of the pond below. Great Tits and Blue Tits cling to rattling branches of Elder and Blackthorn, with the bravest few making a beeline towards the posts for their breakfast.
Two female Pheasants scrounge the ground below, occasionally stretching their necks upwards and awaiting the drop of a discarded kernel. The crow of a male erupts nearby. The two hens stop motionless for a second, with just their ornate feathers ruffling in the wind, before continuing their scavenge for seeds.
I walk around the corner to face the full force of the wind. Water streams from my eyes. On the path ahead, two Blackbirds tip-toe around the great puddles which have filled overnight. I take a bit of detour through some humps and hollows of old quarrs. The other day, retired ranger Robin was telling me about how some of them still have open shafts below the scree of the scar banks. I wonder if a hidden route in has already been found by a Fox or a Bat.
Anvil Point Lighthouse shines bright white in the morning Sun. I stop to ponder the style of coping stones used on the walls which line the perimeter of its grounds. They are all the same size and rounded in a perfect arch – nothing like the local styles traditionally used across Purbeck. Strange!
I head onto the coast path along the spongey grasses and dead heads of Sea Thrift and Wild Carrot, spying a quiet group of Jackdaws sheltering amongst the Tamarisk. Powerful waves roll in from across the Atlantic. They build and tumble before smashing into the cliffs, sending water 100’ up into the sky. Every few minutes the swells align to fill the sea-caves. The trapped air has no where to escape, except to be pumped out through the blowhole, howling as it blows.
No Guillemots or Razorbills to be seen along the cliffs – a brave choice of day to spend out at sea, but perhaps the fishing will be good!