The ground was covered in frost, like a dusting of icing sugar. The frozen puddles mirroring my footsteps and my breath condensing in the icy air. As I walked through the ethereal cloud I half imagined that it was going to freeze on my head and face, coating me with the same hoar frost that gave the pathside bushes a magical air.
The pond was covered with birds, and in the calm of a cold winter morning the calls of Teal, Gadwall, Mallard, Goldeneye, Shoveler, Wigeon and Mute Swan (yes, that’s right, although their vocalisations are quiet, if you are lucky enough to be close by, you realise that they are really quite conversational) layered the soundscape that makes these experiences so relaxing.
Then, a sudden frantic departure from one corner of the pond…and I re-focus my video camera to the now vacant area of water. A few Teal and Mallard are still half-hidden amongst the poolside vegetation, surely they haven’t overlooked the danger that scattered all of the other birds? They soon realise that it’s time to go as an otter bounds along the bank before sliding into the water. Bobbing to the surface like a corked bottle, gliding with menacing intent or rolling on its back and looking like the cutest animal on the planet, nearly an hour passes while I’m absorbed into watching one of my favourite predators doing what it does best. A handy raft covered in vegetation provides the ideal spot to tidy itself up after dinner, before slipping back into the pool. I leave, with face frozen, fingers and toes numb but heart pounding.