Giving You A Fenland Dawn in Winter

I had a smashing night's sleep and got up at 7am, just in time to catch the sunrise, over the Fen and from my living room window. My wife, Carole, has got up too, and we plan to see the Christmas Market in our town of March. 

There is a lot to be said for living in a small town and the very last street with nothing but fields before the river. The fields are lower then our house and the road outside. They are also a natural flood plain. It means they'll never build upon it because it is too low.

I confess, I would be gutted if they did, but everyone assures that the fields can't be built upon in front of our house to the River Nene. To put foundations in would require a massive drainage project that would cost far too much and the fields, as stated, are natural flood plains for when the Nene bursts her banks. 

No hawks so far, but plenty of ravens and crows. They usually gang up and try to swoop and intimidate any passing bird of prey. Hassling them out of the area. Its often fun to watch. 

Everything looks bleak and bare from when summer was here. There was flora everywhere, but now, the winter is here. There is a stillness about the Fen, but the hawks are easier to spot because their plumage does not camouflage them as well as summer months, when the trees are full of leaves and very green. The fields are alive with various crops that are browning to yellow and this hides all the muntjac deer, weasels and stoats who scatter deeper into the fields when disturbed by our passing, close to the field's perimeter. The muntjac can be spotted easily in winter, they look like little dogs at distance upon the freshly ploughed muddy fields.