Last nights dusting of snow lies over the ice, disguising it. Only the passing of people show what lies beneath. We stick carefully to the grassy edges, picking our way along. Golden afternoon light drapes over the trees, creating a shadowland beneath. Twig and shade merge, and shapes seem to twist and change. A faint rustle betrays the presence of blackbird, guddling in the frozen leaves for its dinner. Above a bluetit perches, singing an alarm at our presence, silhouetted against the pale blue of oncoming dusk.