Well we got out together for a walk (Leon is in Devon & I’m normally in Kent), the festive season has taken me to Devon to spend time with my family (the usual – eat too much – drink too much, the same as everyone else over Christmas).
When we meet up we normally head for the moors – either the open tops and wild expanses of the north or south moors or a wander into one of the many wooded valleys.
The moors today was a place of crumbling atmospheres, the mist was clinging heavily to the ground and so we came off the tops and headed for the woods, a place that time seems to have forgotten.
The moss hangs from the trees and clings to the rocks like an expensive carpet.
The melt from the snow had caused the river to rise to almost deafening levels.
The focus of our day was one of the most elusive residents of the valley – the otter.
On certain parts of the river the local otters live and if you choose your time and look in the right places, then you can see plenty of evidence that the population is healthy and still as secretive as ever.