5th March from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
The wren is one of our most numerous birds and yet many people will not have seen one. They are tiny and are never still but you would recognise their fat little brown body with cocked up tail in an instant. They tend to flit about at shoe height across paths and from bush to bush so quickly that you only ever glimpse them out of the corner of your eye before they are gone. But what is distinctive is their pretty tinkling song like a waterfall of musical notes but given at such volume that it’s difficult to match the size of the song with such a diminutive little creature. This morning I heard three of them singing at each other from neighbouring bushes, presumably asserting their rights over their territories. But it was uplifting all the same. Otherwise it was another grey, cold day with a breeze as cold as the Devil’s breath underlined by the sea slapping onto the sand with some vehemence.
From 5th February 2022
The cold blustery wind from the North has blown back in again. The dark lumpy, grumpy clouds jostle together. The sea chases in and throws itself on the beach. The flock of pigeons eagerly hunting through the short grass has grown to a couple of dozen. Gulls hang about with not a lot to occupy themselves. A robin tries to cheer everyone up by going through its whole repertoire from a dead branch. #bournemouth #westcliffgreen #spring #March
From 5th February 2021
A keen, fresh breeze means it's not the time for lingering. A watery sun peeps out from time to time from behind rags of grey clouds and throws a half-hearted shadow along the path in front of me. But between the banks of grey there are glimpses of a clear, blue sky. The sea, laps anxiously as though it is already late for its appointed tide. The work boat Viking Energy thrums along. A rather unlovely vessel but it busies itself about its work about the bay all the same. The broad, dull dark leaves of wild arum form a little clump by the path.
