Knock, knock, who's there?

I took my Mother food shopping this morning, and spent a small fortune in Waitrose.
Soon after we returned home she reported a hen pheasant in the garden, a first, we think. 
The pheasant was tapping on the glass of the French doors, and seemed to want to join us in the dining room. We didn't oblige, as we thought  mayhem might have ensued. So the  bird pottered around on the patio pecking at weeds, for a few minutes,  before flying off. 
My sister arrived this afternoon from Cornwall, and will be staying for a few days, which is very much appreciated  by my Mother and me.