Thursday 3 July 2014

A terrible deep throated screeching from a gaudy fellow.


This is the field, not the garden !
There we were having lunch in the grange when from the garden came a deep throated screeching. All our ears pricked up and Bonny's were practically horizontal. It was then a race into the back garden to shoo away a pheasant pair before Bonny made mincemeat of them. Bonny has breakfasted on baby rabbits two mornings running, leaving the sweet little head and ears for Max the cat to eat, he is not a fussy eater!

All better than what Twister eats,  which he tells me he cannot decide between green plums, donkey or hen pooh, so he eats them all, just to be sure.

The pheasant pair  live in the bushes by the barn and have taken a liking to chicken food.
It is a womens lib issue why the female is so drab and the male so gaudy, I would have a campaign against gaudy males if I was that female  hen pheasant.
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