I didn’t mean to spook the partridges. Eyes narrowed against the sleet, I was walking through the thick, tussocky grass, when a grey partridge flew up from the base of a nearby goat willow. An instant later, a second partridge followed. Wings whirring, their grating alarm calls rasping out, they powered away over the field.

I’d met them before. For months, they’ve been part of our local covey, the 15 or so grey partridges seeing out the winter together in the stubble fields around our village, but now the pair have separated from the winter group to find a breeding territory.