I really was wondering why I was swimming today. The water was three degrees at best and a cold wind was whipping in from the west.
Then just as some prehistoric light slid through the slate grey clouds I saw the heron.
There it was, large and ragged, perched on a ivy-clad branch sticking out over the surface of the water by the far bank. He looked a lot bigger than the one I managed to photograph a year ago.
Herons are always a little unsettling. Solitary and still with weird eyes. He didn’t look happy, hunched up against the coming storm, but he cheered me up.