Ephemeral water of the down

Watership Down, Hampshire That a stream of glycerine-clear water should be there where before there was none is the epitome of nature at its most tantalisingly transient. And, beside these sun-shafted winter beech woods, a thing of subtle, bright beauty.

I have filled my pockets with freezing fingers that have refused their office at the focus wheel of my binoculars. A period of heavy rainfall has ended and a biting cold wind has arrived. There is nothing for it but to visit the river. It's an easy walk from the house up the white-chalk drover's road onto the spine of the downs. It's here where the river appears - and sometimes disappears within the space of a day. A winterbourne.

To concentrate on the prosaic mode of their appearance - aquifers of chalk become saturated, steadily releasing their water - is to miss the winterbournes' unique vitality. That a stream of glycerine-clear water should be there where before there was none is the epitome of nature at its most tantalisingly transient. That it should spring up here, fleeting and temporary, is a gift to the birds in a freeze - and, beside these sun-shafted winter beech woods, a thing of subtle, bright beauty.

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