A walk in the silent winter woods. A knarled old pollard conjours up thoughts of elves and wizards, surrounded by dead wood and decay.
But already new life is emerging - primroses will soon be flowering, and wild arum shoots (or Lord and Ladies) are spearing through the leaf litter.
We didn't see or hear many (any in fact) birds during the walk, but that may have been because we had a child with us, who was a bit loud:
I told her not to climb that tree - it's rotten.
Back at the rifle range, the Black Redstart is still there,
and on the sea a Guillemot showed off its face to the right....
...and to the left.
Or maybe it was two of them, the former in winter plumage and the latter for some reason in summer plumage.