I wrote this 20 years ago and recently discovered it on some sheets of paper that I must have torn from a notebook. I’ve made some very minor edits but what follows is almost exactly as my (late) twenty-something self penned it. (For ref, the Deer Park is on the Pembrokeshire coast in West Wales).

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Deer Park, Marloes, late July – 27/07/03

The bell heather (at least that’s what I think it is) is in flower in beautiful pinky-purple patches all over the park. Wood sage too is in flower and worryingly, as there are wild ponies resident here, there’s a fair bit of ragwort about. [Note: 20 years on, I understand that ragwort is not the deadly danger to horses it’s been made out to be. See Wilding by Isabella Tree.] The ragwort is making both home and meal for the cinnabar caterpillars though.

Meadow pipits are ‘sseeping‘ from all directions and I also enjoyed a close view of a young, or perhaps female, wheatear feeding. It was scurrying back and forth across the short grass, stopping now and then to probe the earth in search of food.

A chough just flew quite low over where I am lying face down on the grass writing this and made me jump. Perhaps if I am still enough one will land close by so I can enjoy its beauty at close range. The glossy black feathers, the fingered wings and those striking red legs and beak. I wonder how well they’ve bred this year?

The evening sun is warm enough to take the chill off the breeze which is strong and variable. Despite the warmth I am glad of my long-sleeved t-shirt and my flask of tea. Nearby Skomer Island is almost a silhouette with the sun above it and the silver light reflecting off the water. The Mew Stone and the Garland Stone are hazy and the bright sun makes it difficult to look at the island for too long, but it’s such a special place to me that I can feel its magnetism and beauty even without looking. Some sailing boats are heading towards Jack sound, a treacherous stretch of water between Midland Isle and the mainland. Today it is relatively calm but sometimes it is impassable.

Further down the Deer Park a man who had put up a tent seems to have thought better of it and is packing his things away. It’s exposed and windy up here and I didn’t think his tent would have lasted five minutes. Some gulls are crying from high up. A couple landed near tent man and are sitting near him. He seems more interested in them than they are in him though. More chough now, flying along in little flocks calling ‘Ciao, ciao!’ as they go.

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I think my favourite thing about finding this is reading that I was ‘lying face down on the grass’ writing it. I don’t exactly remember lying on the grass writing, but I’m glad to be reminded I’m the sort of person who did that. I know it’s accurate because it fits with my habit of snoozing on the ground out in the open when I was on Skomer, where I was once startled by another corvid – a raven flying low over where I was lying, presumably to see if it had found some prize carrion.

It also demonstrates how Joni Mitchell was right about not knowing what you’ve got till it’s gone. I’d love to be able to lie on the ground casually noting my nature observations now, but I’m not sure how comfortable it would be these days.

It also occurs to me that tent man could easily have been observing the strange woman lying on the ground further up the Deer Park, at the same moment I was noting him.

As well as the above, I found a couple of other accounts of my nature-based outings from the same year – which I hope to share here soon.