Purbeck Vignettes -- 2: The Habits of Birds

The walk to Corfe Castle along the chalk ridge of the East Purbeck Hills is in my opinion the loveliest walk in England. Poole Harbour and Wareham Forest spread out to the right; the Vale of Purbeck and its stone-built hamlets to the left; ahead, the sway-backed West Purbeck Hills marching to meet the sea at Worbarrow Tout, like a snake undulating across the landscape; and closer, the ruined keep of the Castle emerging from the folds of the downs. And, above, the birds.

It's perhaps surprising how only a few minutes' observation is sufficient to be able to distinguish one species from another (especially if most of the birds you ordinarily see are urban ones visiting your garden rather than those of the countryside). For instance, kestrels and peregrines are both raptors, the latter larger than the first, although you usually need binoculars to resolve this detail; but even without binoculars the differences in their behaviour are clear. Kestrels hover over the slopes of the hills, their beak and head forming a downward-curving profile at right-angles to their body, and have to engage in bursts of frantic wing-beating every minute or so to retain their position. Peregrines, by contrast, soar and glide: their wing-beats are sparse, and they move slowly across the sky, clearly reserving their energies for the killing dive that will gain them their next meal.

Buzzards are different again: with square, distinctively barred wings, they patrol in rising circles, concluding each patrol with a downward slide to a different spot to commence a new one. Crows -- sociable, intelligent birds -- clearly enjoy riding the thermals, just because they can. And the skylarks....you'll never see skylarks in towns, because they are birds of the open field: trilling constantly, rising upwards, becoming a mere dot before suddenly folding their wings and plunging down to their nest somewhere in the grass.

And the other lovely thing about the walk along the East Purbeck Hills is that there is no background noise -- of traffic, or aircraft -- to blanket the bird-song: you'll hear it all.

At the end of the walk, there are the ruins of Corfe Castle, the most sublime of all the ruined castles in England -- see the photograph below. When I die, I want my ashes scattered on the slope of the hill overlooking it, just where the photograph was taken.