A few years ago, I was fortunate enough to have permission to shoot over some rough, desolate freshwater marshes that lie just to the rear of a tall sea wall, separating them from a wide coastal estuary and the North Sea. In summer, the marshes were normally bone dry — with the exception of the deep dykes that ran at right angles to the sea wall — and supported a herd of shaggy, wild-eyed bullocks. By mid-November in an average year, however, it was a different picture — brimful dykes and shallow, waterlogged depressions.
In one corner of the marsh, in particular, two adjacent hollows were invariably under 6in of water,
