Foxglove - January 27

Under the mud, the ground can still be frozen, presenting a hazard for horses in particular. Even the dogs have lost their traction across the ice on occasion. Well, that's winter.

I took breaks from the challenges of frozen pipes and troughs to cross my trapping grounds and see what the snow could tell me, and after it, the mud.

The first snow told me that there were more rabbits about than I had thought, and that I would be well-advised to move a trap here and there. Even a small move can make the difference between catching and not catching.

Following the second wave I could also see tiny patches of green staining the snow, perhaps from rabbits eating ivy leaves, and the more usual red staining that showed me the doe rabbits were coming into breeding fettle.

As well as ivy leaves, the rabbits had stripped leaves and rind from the brambles, and a lot of bark from the trees.

They had stayed underground for the first few days of the snow, and found little to eat after it. Some had moved into hay barns, or found cattle and horse feed nearby, and the more resourceful were even sharing feed with the pheasants.

I found where a little nye of pheasants was living in a big formal garden, and where the fox was following their tracks across the lawns.

Here was where his brush had dragged along in the snow, and those streaks there were from the tail of a cock pheasant. The girls at the stable yard wanted a word because they had seen rat tracks, and we spoke for a few minutes while their terrier strutted about showing us where the rats had been crossing.

Over by the kitchen garden, the domestic fowl pecked at their grain and keened uncomfortably about how cold their feet were.

They had gone off lay when the hard weather first came, as had my own hens. Now the fox was testing the defences of their run, and the snow told all.

After the initial thaw, the ground still rigid and rutted and a few pockets of ice hanging on in shady places, there was enough mud from the ruts and cracked-ice puddles to show me a little more of what was coming and going, and where. With every likelihood of more snow to follow, I needed to make use of all this information quickly.

So much is written on the ground, if we only have time to look and eyes to see. What I cannot see is scent: the dogs loved the way the snow held the scent and was deep enough for them to run on without injury, and told me much, though I was pushed to keep up with them on occasion.

Thawing was not so helpful, for it was not safe for them to run, and the scent seemed as cold and muddied as the ground. Grass lay yellowed and flaccid, dangerous to horses because of the high sugar content brought on by the frosts, and the undergrowth that has been our delight to hunt out since the autumn was now flattened and offered little shelter to our quarry.

I looked upwards into a busy sky and wondered what it would bring us next. It was time to return and prepare for evening, and ponder on the learnings of the day.