During the short winter days, the birds arriving at our garden feeder bring us great pleasure. For the last few years a regular visitor has been a pheasant, we’d become very fond of him.
We called him Fezzie
Maybe Fezzie got a little too bold, complacent, let his guard drop? Or maybe he just ate too much of the hen food to be fighting fit? You can tell where this post is heading can’t you?
Sadly, I’m afraid Fezzie is no more, we found his limp body being dragged towards the cat flap, by Dodger the cat, remember him? The butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth, cool little kitten cat?
Now, as we later discovered that Dodger had cornered and killed Fezzie in the chicken run, which is the best part of 30 yards from the house, it means that he dragged Fezzie, quite some distance uphill! But then again he always did have ideas above his station…