As a writer I tend to spend a large chunk of my time staring in the general direction of the window waiting for the elusive muse to rain down gifts of inspiration upon me. Yesterday as I was doing just that, I saw a pheasant casually padding round our front garden, pecking at the ground and generally minding his own business.
This isn’t unusual in itself but he then made his way round the back and seemed to be as interested in Marx and Eggels, the chickens, as they were in him. I managed to grab the camera and rattle off a few pictures before he ran off into the field. I just loved the contrast of the caged chickens (not that they are permanently incarcerated) and the very much free-range pheasant.