At last the pond fish have done what they are supposed to do in winter and are lying torpidly at the bottom of the pond, swishing a fin or tail occasionally - all except for Sandra, the athletic one, who still makes the occasional leap to the top and back. I think she's the only one that feels the cold.
There's netting over half the pond but that didn't stop a passing heron from chancing its luck yesterday. It swooped down, stood on the edge looking in, my partner spotted it and flapped his arms and off it went, soaring in stately fashion over the treetops.
The green woodpecker was searching for ants in the lawn again this morning, stabbing at the frosty surface with its hammer of a beak. Don't think it got much. The ants are probably keeping warm way underground, with little anty hot water bottles and noggins of fermented aphid dew.
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