Bathing beauty

I was running along the track - of an estate owned not by Althorp but by some other stately home... Lamport or Cottesbrooke. It's one of my favourite places. I cried the first time I returned here after lockdown. The view from the top of the hill, almost an escarpment, into the wide valley is magical.

Anyway, I was on my way back when I noticed a bird by the puddles. I thought that it wanted to drink, so I stopped. It seemed wrong to scare it away.

It didn't want to drink. It wanted to bathe.

It took the bird some time to decide that it was safe to bathe with me on the track. Initially, it was in one of the closer puddles on the left hand side. It had a dip in there - rushed in case I took advantage. Stopped. Watched me. Waited. Another rushed dip. Rinse and repeat. This went on for four dips. The bird came out of that puddle and proceeded to the next one. Here it managed two or three longer dips. Then it came out.

I was being patient but despite the sun, the wind was cold and I was stiffening up. The old legs. the old back. So I thought, enough, surely?

But no. Puddle three. And this seemed to be a good puddle. Much flicking and ruffling of feathers. Much shaking and resettling. Rinse and repeat.

That must be the end, I thought.

Nope. One more puddle to go.

I don't know what it was. Maybe a linnet. I'll have to find out more.