The dazzling white of snow gave way to sludge underfoot. Then came the heavy rain, returning us to mud and the drabness of late winter.
A ghost rises beside the lake, taking form as it separates itself from the low mist. Against the grey of the sky, the impossible brilliance of its perfect white, metre-wide wingspan is jolting. It’s a little egret, a small, white heron with impressive wings.
Although they are now fairly common, little egrets still spark excitement in me, a thrill of the exotic. With climate change, their range has expanded north from southern Europe, and they are now resident in the UK’s coasts and wetlands.
This one lives along the River Tas, making the trip here to the farm and our man-made lake (or is it a pond?), to hunt fish and frogs. It often waits at the water’s edge, either statue-still or shuffling its feet in an awkward dance to disturb potential prey. As chief clothes-washer in our home, forever battling the tinge of grey on school shirts and the stained white sports socks, I marvel at the bright white and how a creature of the riverbank, marsh or lake stays so clean.
I seek white in the murky landscape, to find anything that can equal egret white. A clump of snowdrops in the woodland gives me that spring dopamine hit. They are just emerging, inner tepals trimmed with green. Maybe I’m just impatient, but they seem slow to get going this year. I’d usually expect the whole patch to be in full flower by now.
On the way home, I notice a jackdaw swirling with its flock. It seems at first to be defying the laws of physics, with several key feathers missing. Then I realise that the feathers are present, but leucistic, lacking pigment due to a genetic mutation. There is something about leucistic birds that gives me an odd sense of ownership, or perhaps it is just recognition. This is “my” jackdaw now, and I will always search it out.
More rain is forecast. The task of drying mountains of not-quite-white laundry continues.
• Under the Changing Skies: The Best of the Guardian’s Country Diary, 2018-2024, is available now at guardianbookshop.com
