The afternoon sun breaks through the cloud, and lights up the green and yellow leaves of the birch saplings on the heathland. The sound of circular saws echoes from the woods. Conservation work is under way on the reserve to clear some of the older trees, to allow younger ones to mature and to improve the heath and woodland habitats for the specialist plants, insects, reptiles and birds that live here.
I wander along the sandy path downhill through the woods, accompanied by the constant, high-pitched whistling of flocks of long-tailed tits, feeding in the branches all around me, along with great tits, blue tits and chaffinches. In the leaf litter at my feet, beside the muddy track, I find a bright-red fly agaric mushroom. Its red cap seems to have been partially nibbled, to reveal spots of white flesh underneath. Somewhere high in the canopy, a nuthatch emits excited, bubbling trills.
From the viewpoint, I look out across the brooks. Water levels have risen with the recent rain, as have the numbers of wintering wildfowl – I listen to the soft, honking calls of geese and the falling whistles of wigeon. Small groups of lapwing pass over silently, gently flapping their rounded, paddle-like wings. They drift towards the water, and one by one they raise one wing, bank, turn and drop down on to the mud to roost. As dusk nears, and the sun gradually dips towards the horizon, a glowing orange band shimmers above the South Downs.
A flock of starlings – black, flickering dots – takes off and weaves over the fields. In the poor light, I can just make out the small brown bird of prey that’s pursuing them. The merlin dashes low in one direction and then another. It flaps its wings hard but then it slows, glides and lands on the grass, out of sight. I wait and watch, but I don’t see the small falcon fly again.
The sky’s orange glow has faded, and light rain is beginning to fall. Two large ravens fly over my head and away, over the brooks, drifting into the darkening sky.
