The sinking sun over the marsh signals the start of another shift. It’s in this quiet hour that the badgers begin their unhurried patrols. They emerge from their setts, or darkening undergrowth, to start their time-honoured nightly foraging routine. They are not stealthy animals and make little attempt to limit their noisy progress.

In the infra-red light of my camera trap, the badger’s stripes appear as white flashes. They mooch around the riverbank with a steady, purposeful head-to-the-ground snuffle that has evolved to root out a meal from the ground; this time, beetles are on the menu.

I am fortunate to witness these shy animals live their lives. I soon realised how little people living around them knew about their world. To most people, badgers are rarely seen and live underground. By day, the only hint of the badger’s night’s industry is a few holes in the ground used as latrines, and other holes dug in search of food. The paths appear mostly unused. Yet here, captured for a few minutes, is the actual heartbeat of the riverbank. The badgers forage, test the air, and nose the soil. Now and then, they raise their heads, listening for some sound we cannot hear. Then they melt back into the darkness as noisily, relatively speaking, as they came.

It is a privilege to witness these night wanderings. The badgers keep themselves to themselves and give very little away. That may be why their presence is always a surprise. For a brief time, the camera focuses on their world, allowing us to walk beside them.

These three minutes show that the marsh and river hold stories that only night reveals. The Badgers, elusive as they are, should be valued for their contribution to nature and not persecuted.