My beautiful Pheasant

I've been waiting for the sunlight to shine on the male  pheasant that is now coming regularly to the garden. Today the sun came out at the right time in the early morning and made his coloured feathers more vibrant. I did have to tell him off though as he started to peck my primulas.
Today is World Poetry day and I found this ideal poem which sums up my surroundings at the moment.

Spring Bounds

Only two weeks ago it was quiet,
apart from the owls at night.
But now the song thrush has started
his merry, desperate tune,
and a murmuration of starlings
daily pervades the sky.

By day, falls of lambs
spring on grassy banks,
their mothers staring back
at the farmer's straining dog.

At a shout from his master,
he hits the floor,
his wagging tail halts,
pricked ears fall,
but his eyes remained fixed
on the now fleeing flock.

Thistles have clambered out of the ground,
buzzards drift high above.
Now screeching pheasant takes flight,
my spaniel's footsteps are like
a skimmed stone on the brook-
he tries turning it into a runway.

By Hannah Morse

Julie and myself are having a blipmeet at the Beach Café at 10 o clock this Wednesday 23rd. Please feel free to join us if you're in the area :)