A frozen, foggy, glaucous world, pale fields patched green where sleeping ewes had thawed them. Grey silence webbed with Robin and Thrush song and the call of a winter Chiffchaff hidden in ivy.
Frosty, slippery plank-bridges best avoided, I re-routed via the Toot Rock terrafirma, arriving at the same time as noisy incoming Jackdaws, silent departing Common Gulls and the driver of the EA dredger.
The canal’s low water levels and banks of freshly-scooped silt attract crowds of Teal, echoing Redshank, a lone Kingfisher, hunched Herons and miserable-looking Egrets.

Song Thrushes are widespread, even out on the marsh where they probe the poached mud around the curly-coated cattle.
As I returned at dusk, a barrel-bodied Woodcock fluttered through the twilight down to some suitably soggy bottom and the reedy quack of Gadwall came up from a hidden pond as Canada Geese honked in off the marsh and a Tawny Owl began to hoot.
