Country diary: flowers emerge from the shingle
The waves uncurl and throw themselves on to the beach again and again. Black cloud hides the sun rising above the water, and it feels cold in the wind. Crunching on the stones, I tread on thousands of shells, in so many forms, textures and colours, as well as the broken shells and claws of crabs, the white and soft bony plates of cuttlefish, and dark tangles of seaweed.
I also find a bright blue plastic bottle top, and another, and a square piece of blue plastic fishing net, green plastic string, a grey plastic bag. I instinctively pick them up and put them in my pockets, but I soon run out of room. And everywhere there are black rubber shards – fragments of vehicle tyres. I make a note to return with large rubbish bags.
Among the detritus, towers of red valerian shake in the wind and sea kale plants explode in a flurry of wavy green leaves. Little white flowers are starting to emerge on some of the sea kale. It thrives on the shingle along the south coast, and used to be harvested and eaten to such an extent that it nearly disappeared altogether. Its greatest threat now in some places is the construction of sea defences, which replace the loose shingle with solid walls and banks.
I reach a wire fence with a little yellow RSPB sign: “Temporarily closed”. The fencing is to protect nesting seabirds – especially little terns – on the beach and nearby island from predators and disturbance by walkers and their dogs. The multi-organisation, five-year project to help them re-establish here and at 19 other UK sites has been partfunded by EU Life and the UK government.
The sun finally breaks through the cloud and the water glows gold. Two little birds – ringed plovers – whizz past me, and settle next to the tide line, where they preen. One of them lacks the orange bill and black on the head of an adult – it’s a young bird, recently fledged.
I look up and watch the glimmering sea. Against the brightening sun, the silhouettes of terns flicker as they bounce and flutter, then hover – more like butterflies than birds. One spears down into the water with a short splash, and rises to hover again.