It’s a stunning evening for a walk at Durlston Country Park. The position of its headland on the south-west coast of England makes it a fantastic place to watch bird migration in action. As I walk along the coastal path, enjoying the panoramic sea views, barn swallows arrive from across the Channel.

Below is a cacophony of sound coming from the cliff edges; this part of the Jurassic Coast is home to a breeding colony of seabirds, with last year’s survey recording 1,377 guillemots, 179 razorbills, 12 fulmars and just six puffins.

This population of puffins is incredibly perilous, and work is being carried out by the National Trust and dedicated volunteers to understand why the three pairs are unable to successfully fledge young. It comes as no surprise that this time I’m unable to spot one myself.

Despite the riches below, something up here catches my eye on the grassy clifftop: a small, grey streaky bird with an unmistakable accelerating song flight. It lifts into the air, rising higher and higher before parachuting back down, wings held slightly open, all while singing its trill-like song. Landing in front of me, it gives me a close view of its long, dark bill and legs, and buffish underparts.

My first encounter with this species was back in 2017 when I was birding on the Dorset coast. One walked beneath the picnic bench that I was sitting on at Portland, picking up crumbs from my lunch – clearly a fan of my jam sandwich.

This one is likely to be a male, performing aerial displays to defend its territory and attract a mate, as the breeding season is well under way now. Its nest will be tucked away in a nearby crevice or on a rocky ledge, hidden among vegetation. These underrated birds can be found along our coastlines throughout the year, with the largely resident UK population bolstered in winter by migrant birds arriving from Scandinavia.

Further along the path, the rock pipit performs once again, its grand display stopping me in my tracks and outshining the superstar seabirds below.