All in a day's work

Duck dating, snowdrop splitting, welcoming avian visitors and manning the barricades against an unwanted national park

- Jamie Blackett

IN the Bible, Noah views the return of a dove as proof that the waters will subside. For us, the first harbinger of spring is a shelduck below the house, seen smudgily through a sepia light, guddling about in a rockpool in what is euphemistically known as 'nice weather for ducks'.

He's a week early-normally they turn up on Valentine's Day, after months of absence, for a spot of speed dating before pairing up and heading off to find old rabbit holes to nest in. However, after a couple of hours of the duck equivalent of nonchalantly sitting alone at a bar pretending everything is fine, he acknowledges that he has been stood up, possibly because it's the wrong day, and pushes off again. (Younger readers may need their dads to explain to them how this used to happen before the days of mobile phones.) It's snowdrop time here and the brave little flowers give us something to gaze at as we tackle winter chores, an emotional prop to carry us through to the great awakening. Most years, the snowdrops are gone before I have a chance to spread them; this year, I determined to create new drifts along the drive.