Golden Boy

It is hard to know what to think about pheasants isn’t it? A bird in the wild but not really wild – introduced, artificially encouraged so that it can then be killed for the pleasure of killing things.

Last winter and spring we had pheasants around the plot. We didn’t get to know them as individuals and were told by the locals they would disappear before summer, which they did – presumably dutifully returning to their breeding grounds in time to be shot when the season opened.

This year we have got to know our two resident cocks on a more personal level. And they are living creatures just like any others when it comes down to it. Golden Boy and his Big Dad:

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Like all the living creatures that weave their lives around us they have provided fascination, amusement and interest.

So it was with sadness today we found Golden Boy dead on the lane. On the main road to the town there is carnage corner which is always littered with road kill but the number of vehicles on our slow lane on a Sunday is less than one hand.

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Pethan eraill yn y tyddyn heddiw:

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Plus daffodil of the day

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And caption competition

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