Suddenly it feels like spring. The migrant warblers haven’t arrived, though a resident Cetti’s gave me a fine burst of its loud simple song; and the winter ducks haven’t all gone back up North, a few Goldeneye and Goosander still fishing the lake; but it was almost warm in the bright sunshine, and the wild pear tree in the woods positively sparkled with fresh new blossom.

There were animal tracks too: tiny footprints of Muntjac.

A little further, a fresh pile of tiny scat, Muntjac for sure.

A Sparrowhawk dashed low over the willows, and disappeared as swiftly as it had arrived.

On the path, the much larger slots of Roe deer; and a Rabbit hopped quietly aside.

The last of the winter thrushes – a flock of Fieldfares – called their chattering chack-chack from the tall boundary hedge of trees. A flock of gently twittering Goldfinches, too, served as a reminder of a winter only just passing.