I’ve mentioned before that we live out in the country…
We’re surrounded by fields, and sometimes our garden is like an episode of Springwatch.
At the moment we have a male pheasant visiting. (Some of you might remember that I have “previous” with a pheasant so I’m keeping an eye on this one.)
He pops in several times a day to scrounge some of the seed that falls from the feeders as the smaller birds feed. He’s pretty brazen, but he’s a wily critter, too. A few weeks ago we spotted him jumping up and headbutting the feeder to knock more seed down! We’ve hung it higher up now and he can’t reach, though he can’t quite figure out what’s happened.
So there’s him. And now his lady friend has started popping in, too. As I’ve said, he’s a pretty bold character and just kind of faces us off if we step out the back door. She’s far more timid and nervy, though.
The other day he’d been in for his breakfast, and scootered back over the fence into the field. Then she came in for hers. I was watching through the window, and she caught my movement as I filled the kettle.
For a moment she froze in panic, then she ran for it. But then she crept back….
I moved again, and this time she scarpered over the fence with a baleful backward glance.
I got on with what I was doing, making our morning cuppas, thinking that was that.
But no, next time I looked, there she was back underneath the feeder, gobbling for all she was worth. And there he was, all puffed up, standing between her and the house, like he was keeping guard.
I could just imagine the discussion….
Her all belligerent: “They won’t let me get my breakfast.”
Him all protective: “We’ll soon see about that. Just you come with me, hen…”
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