Saga of a woman old enough to know better who lets her life be governed by the ridiculous hobby of breeding and showing dogs, musing on life, the twenty first century, Cameron and his mini-me, and the occasional sheep.

Tuesday, March 01, 2011


We have a lot of pheasants here. They breed on my land, and at the moment courtship is well underway.

Now the pheasant is not exactly the brightest of birds. My former neighbour, Old Peter, used to do a bit of shooting....but never pheasants. He always said he would be ashamed to shoot anything that stupid.

One large male who even among pheasants must have qualified as the village idiot, paraded along the hedge the other day, uttering frequent guttural calls which probably translate as "Come and eat me - I`m over here!" The dogs, on the other side, went ballistic and had to be taken in.

The next day he was parading in the next field. And Truly got out. She sped towards her feathered lunch at near light speed.

Now you would expect any normal bird to take to the air and leave the whole situation far behind. But pheasants are not normal.

Instead,he chose to run.

Truly was after him like a tiny red and white cruise missile. The dumb bird legged it down the field, but it was clear that he had nothing like her speed. The rest of my gang cheered her on to the echo, jumping up and down at the gate.

She closed on him, she had him - and then at the last minute he flew, with a huge clatter of wings.

Truly`s eager teeth closed on empty air. Her face was a study......

"Oh shit! My lunch could fly! Who knew!"

She stalked home in a fury. The rest of the gang, equally amazed, had for once nothing to say.

She has been very quiet since.

I am sure she is making plans. Probably involving flapping her ears very fast indeed.
Thanks for the story of A Bird In The Paw. You have such a fun way with words. I can see the whole thing happening. I needed a laugh this afternoon.
Best - Hester
Thank you - the great chase was hilarious, and I was lucky to be there to see it. Truly sees herself as a great and mighty hunter (standing nine and a half inches high at the shoulder).
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