Neon flashes from a little brown bird

Sandy, Bedfordshire So lustrous is the colour it's beyond compare - but kingfisher blue is due to a trick of the light

Crusty cowpats in the riverside meadow were no longer traps for unwary feet, their liquid mocha hearts baked dry by weeks in the sun. After a summer of circumventing fresh stinky pies there was no need to watch my step.

I felt like a liberated child stomping through puddles in wellies. Each scuff and kick at the weightless clods released a sweet odour of fermented grass, a reminder of the cattle who left behind these giant droppings and poached the soil where it was soft at the water's edge.

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