Not Pheasy Boy

I was creeping along near the missing pane in number thirteen disused glasshouse in the hope of seeing old Reynard in there when a pheasant appeared to the south. I normally greet Pheasy Boy but kept quiet so as not to startle Reynard if he was around.

Sure enough the old fox was snoozing and I managed some blurry pics of his disappearing brush. When I turned the corner a hen pheasant whirred into the air, followed closely by the cock. How strange I thought, Pheasy Boy very rarely flies, maybe it's because he is courting.

I then went for a walk around the lake and there alone amongst the shrubs was a cock pheasant. Instead of flying he strutted towards me and I told the real Pheasy Boy how gorgeous he is and how pleased I was to see him. The two of us then walked together in the dappled sunshine around the perimeter of the lake through the snowdrop carpet and the remains of the snow.