The right kind of winter snow

A view of the river with snow falling - imagine, in summer willow warblers, chiffchaffs, blackcaps feeding off aphids in the willows here!
In winter it's a haven for a huge variety of wildlife too, with water birds such as moorhen, mallard and grey heron, together with bullfinch, chaffinch, goldfinch and greenfinch,  blue and great tit, long-tailed tit, robin, dunnock, wren and many more.

As forecast, on cue, the snow arrived at about 08.30 on Friday 18th January and didn't cease until late afternoon, about 4cm with some small drifts as it arrived on an uncommon south east wind.
More snow fell for most of the day on Sunday 20th but with temperatures just above freezing, did not add much to the layer already on the ground.

Snow falling on the river bank, so lightly, resting on each twig

On Monday 21st January, the snow remained - at around midday it was very quiet - the snow being a very effective sound insulator, background noise was minimal and the birds were quiet too - no echoes.
I stood listening - only one bird at first, a great tit calling properly from a tree 'tee-cher'. In the distance, the sound of jackdaws and rooks in the trees but otherwise still. With no wind to move the branches, any tiny movement or fall of snow from a twig indicated life. Every tree trunk, branch, twig and shrub had a layer of snow which also covered the ground except where blackbirds had swiped and dug the snow aside and flung fallen leaves in all directions under trees forming large dark patches where they had been rooting for invertebrates with success, as the earth remained damp and unfrozen. It was certainly 'the right kind of snow' for birds and other wildlife: soft, covering the ground gradually, leaving plenty of caves and tunnels into the shelter of the bankside vegetation and tree roots.
A wary nuthatch broke the silence between the calls of the great tit - where the latter was content to sit and sing, the nuthatch could be clearly seen foraging amongst the branches. Another smaller bird flew in to forage in the crevices of the bark where invertebrates could be found hiding - a good view of a treecreeper - then a great spotted woodpecker flew out of an oak across to another tree, silently. In the north west, a faint glimpse of light blue sky, not promising any sun but at least the snow lit up the landscape which has been so dull and dark.
Three jays, unusually silent too, followed each other across the sky followed by a magpie. A tiny bird was busy high up in a tree - without dislodging any snow - a goldcrest, whilst blue tits were restlessly flying across from tree to tree. Several blackbirds, also silent, were busy in the undergrowth, their numbers greatly increased this winter by migrant birds - and a few starlings rested in the branches after rapid flights across the snow. Greenfinches could be heard in the thicket, they like to keep together in small groups and house sparrows were strangely quiet, their presence in amongst the brambles only given away by short snatches of chatter.  Suddenly a loud flapping above me - a woodpigeon clinging upside down to ivy covering a branch, reaching out to the remaining ivy berries. It seemed to be using its wings as well as its feet to cling and steady itself. Others nearby were attempting the same approach whilst some sat high in the trees and watched. A solitary crow called out and robins at last started to sing and fill the silent river bank with sound.

Another view of the snow, with old oak, holly and ivy and on the opposite bank, hazel