Sometimes, something will happen that reminds you that you’re actually living in the countryside. It might be a massive bit of agricultural kit rumbling past the end of the drive, or maybe you wake to the unmistakable sound of a roaring stag.
Today it was a coy but none-the-less nosy pheasant and its young’un.
Can you see it?

What about now?

She stood for a while watching us watch her, then turned and scuttled, chick in tow, off into the middle of our hayfield leaving behind more questions than answers.

We used to get a cock pheasant hanging around here most years. We were never sure if it was the same one each year or not. That was decades ago now though …and I don’t know why they disappeared. I don’t ever hear them either, so it’s not just my farm, they’re not around the area period. 😟
Apparently pheasant and quail were introduced to our area by a couple of local families in the late 1800s and, in places, are ten-a-penny but we have never had them here.
They were I produced here too, mid 1800’s.
I needed the enlargement before I could see it. We have literally thousands around here at this time of year.
Ours live for the same reason as those by you
…but with less if the organisation
Whilst I am unfamiliar with the sound of a roaring stag, I am familiar with the hissing and grunting sounds possums make on my fence at night when they encounter rivals – ‘You get off the fence’ No, you get off the fence!’ At least they are not cavorting on the roof as they did when I lived in the outer eastern suburbs of Melbourne.
I really dislike the sound of possums; they leave the house roof alone but scitter and screech along the barn roof. Yuk!