Or... Narcissus takes the plunge.
He starts off by staring for ages into the water from the stones at the side of the pond. Then he sits in up to his tummy, sort of floating. The tail gets a genteel rinse... then he goes for it hell for leather. At which point you'd be forgiven for thinking he was drowning, which I did the first time, but he just loves the water this one. Then its a quick scratch and fluff and out onto the stones to dry off a little.
This is a juvenile male, one of last year's babies, which you can tell because he'sn ot quite fully black yet and his beak hasn't turned yellow. He's a bit of a ladies' man, though, and gets into quite a few spats with some other males in the garden. There were seven blackbirds in the back the other day. Three go around together and I think they may be the three from last year's nest, a couple are what I presume to be their parents (none of them fight) and a few invaders intent on turf wars.
There's quite a lot of this in the undergrowth...