A thousand - and probably more - years ago, the lake was known as 'Thorstein's Mere', though who this unknown man of obvious Viking connection was remains unknown.

Later on, possibly two decades or so after the Norman Conquest of 1066, this stretch of water became 'Turtini Watra' - a strange and semi-literate rendering of the more ancient Norse title.

Today, it is the more genteel ' Coniston Water' - seemingly a somewhat prissy title which seems to smack of prim Victoriana.

Yet, on close examination, the word ' Coniston' reeks of history.

It too has an ancient pedigree.

'Coniston' pre-dates the Norse settlement; it is an Anglo-Saxon rendering of the 'King's settlement', though who that unnamed and petty king was, when he existed, and exactly when the Norsemen moved in to his small kingdom about the southern mountains is not known.

Norman, Norsemen and Anglo-Saxon (and perhaps a few Celtic herdsmen) have long gone from that area - but the wild geese are still here.

These days, they are not so wild, but though called 'feral', the grey lags are still wary of human company.

They graze on bright turf jutting out into lake water to form a blunt - and safe - promontory.

When we pass the site - in clear weather and bright sunshine - a group of these ancient English inhabitants were present, very wary, ready to edge into the lake as we passed.

Always, there is at least two of these birds on watch, ready to trumpet alarm if any danger - real or imagined - threatens.

Other than the geese we saw very little of birds on or near the wind-ruffled water.

Half a dozen mallard swam close - male and female alike apparently in the dull brown feathering of ' eclipse'.

It is a hazardous time for most wildfowl.

This is when old flight feathers are shed, rendering the birds flightless and obviously vulnerable while awaiting the emergence of the new flight feathers.

Obviously still wary of human presence, these birds closed the shallows, awaiting any thrown scraps of food.