Poppies

At six this morning, the sun is already high and warm in the clear blue sky. I take an early walk from the cliffs at West Pentire down to the sheltered Polly Joke cove. On the beach, the tide is almost in, and the low waves slosh gently against the rocks. A stream trickles over the sand to meet the ocean. Looking for wildlife, what stands out most this morning are wrens. Usually a shy and flighty species, today the males stand brazenly on gateposts and sprawling branches of shrubs, loudly proclaiming ownership over their territories. Nearby, a male stonechat is clicking far more modestly. A noise overhead alerts me to a group of four Canada geese flying over, heading north. Jackdaws perch on jutting rocks halfway up the cliff faces. Just across the water on the other side of the cove are signs of a recent cliff fall: a jagged edge cut away into the clifftop and bare sandy soil exposed above a cascade of rubble that has come to rest on the cliff slope.

Wren; Jackdaw

At the top of the cliffs are fields of poppies in their thousands, with many still yet to bloom – their heads nod in the gentle breeze, with translucent petals illuminated like lampshades by the strong sunlight of the early morning. Other flowers grow among them, including a white form of campion. At one of the field borders, where poppies have given way to oilseed, two rabbits chase each other; they look carefree hopping in circles with their white tails bobbing. The poppies and long grasses must also be providing shelter for skylark nests – all around, the birds launch into the sky to sing at length, one of the mainstays of the soundtrack of summer.

Poppies