In the valley a few branches of a Silver Birch have turned to yellow, and they look brilliant in the sun against a blue sky.
A cock Pheasant, one of the ring-necked variety, also looks splendid in the afternoon sun but he looses some of his dignity as he runs off across the stubble. To us the stubble is in rows not much more than a boot high. To the pheasant that means chest high. He runs off like someone in a carnival costume trying to run a hurdles race.
Cat's Ear, a relative of hawkweeds and dandelions, which can be distinguished by small cat's ear shaped bracts on its smooth stems, is in full flower alongside the towpath.
A Heron stands on the towpath, but, like the pheasant, I'm afraid we have to disturb it as we walk along.