4.
as one towards the shore and waddled up into
the adjoining slopes beneath the trees. I
strolled round by the lake edge towards them.
The few birds left on the water came ashore.
Moving slowly to them I broke their ring of
confidence and all but the bold few took
flight across the lake to find new calm
beyond the central islet.
I struck off into the woods in the
general direction of High Beach, my rubber
boots squeaking at the heels as the compac-
ted snow objected. Boggy patches were only
recognised when each footstep changed into
an oily unsure glide. I made no great effort
to be objective, being content to allow cool
observation to yield to pleasant impressions.
Small tracks were not always easy to identify-
clearly but fox, rabbit, hare and deer were
all apparently in evidence, together with a
possibly squirrel, but the occasional black-
bird was encountered in person imparting no
little charm to the business of skilfully
flicking a cascade of autumn leaves in the
search for insect food under four inches of
snow.
An avalanche of sound startled me as
over a hundred wood pigeons needlessly
revealed their presence in the treetops to
reassemble at a short distance, repeating
the operation as I drew near a second and a
third time. Bird calls were minimal apart
from cautionary phrases from a Dunnock, then
a Nuthatch. A Bluetit ruffled its feathers
a few feet overhead as I bridged a deep
meander of a softly murmuring stream.
A thin powder of snow still sprinkled
down, and vegetation held its mantle, each