an invitation
to be more Pheasant
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Hello. This post is about Death & Birds.
A pair of Pheasants have, joyously, made our garden their home. We’d heard them for weeks, their squawks getting closer and closer until one morning, there they were; she, hesitant in the long grass, he walking boldly across the lawn. Now, whenever the Pheasants are home, we move differently. They insist a slower pace. If we rush from the office into the house they will spook, whereas when we walk slowly, announcing ourselves with a polite cough as we amble back and forth, they simply lift a head in acknowledgement before returning to their work of locating whatever seeds the Crows and Magpies have overlooked.