An Evening Stroll

Every evening there are a group of cock Pheasants that cross the A25. It can be amusing to see them stop at the crossing. They look left and right, as if they had been taught and if all is clearish, they run over the road.
Drivers are not that sensible. They toot their horns, as if a Pheasant should know what a horn is. Few slow down and I'd say a number even put their feet down on the accelerator trying to mow them over.

There will be very few, if any, hen birds around at this time of year. The keepers catch them up and they are housed in large pens with a few cock birds. There they will mate and lay their eggs. These are collected and either hatched out by the keeper or handed over to a dealer in return for chicks later in the season.
The males, now with no hens to fight over or territory to defend, wander throughout the countryside. They have roosting areas which they will return to every evening.

That's why the Pheasant crossed the road!

I'm sorry if I'm not commenting as normal but I am watching your blips and reading all your wonderful journals. I'm very busy at the moment and have to dedicate much of my remaining time to essential chores. I haven't gone away and I'll get back to normal in a few days.