WHAT a beautiful spring. It’s got a bit cold lately but the previous month or so has been superb dog walking weather. There has been more of a spring in Esme’s step as the cold ground warms, the countryside wakes up releasing lots of tantalising smells for a canine.

The annual miracle of rural rebirth never fails to amaze; the skeletal trees gently unbud their leaves, the hedgerows froth with flowers, the cowslips replace the daffodils and then comes the glory of bluebell woods, that gorgeous purpley-blue haze that shimmers through the trees.

This spring has given me lots of surreal moments: wild peacocks seen strutting on the roof of a local barn booming out their mating calls over the fields; Esme was baffled by a three-inch part of slow-worm that lay slowly and rhythmically writhing on the path. Slow-worms can lose their tails when attacked as an escape mechanism from predators. A moment before I saw the tail two rooks had been on the same path. Hopefully they didn’t get the front end of the worm.

Stopping Esme picking up things she shouldn’t is becoming a full-time occupation: half-savaged carcasses, rabbit poo, human trash, all of it is fair game for her. But at least she retains no interest in going down rabbit holes. She rarely wonders off but seems happy to stick around. Sometimes I look left and right and cant see her. A tiny ripple of panic, is this the time she has disappeared for a two-week sojourn in a warren? No. There she is silently padding along at heel only six inches away. Good girl.