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Another bird falls 'fowl'.....
It was a lovely day today...really warm (18.c). I had a nice long sleep and got up late. I had a cup of tea and something to eat while sitting lazily on the bench outside...I'll go for a walk in the country, I thought. Somewhere not too far. So, I drove down through Little Hay heading towards the village of Hints. A gentle cruise along country lanes, windows down, rural smells lifting my spirits (yes, I know it's just cow poo... but for some reason it smells good....well no, I don't think that's strange..ohh it's just me then!), not a care in the world...AHH, SCREECH, BANG...FEAThers ("oh, the humanity")...
'Baby faced' micra claims another victim. I pick up a floppy pheasant. "Might be just stunned" my inner child remarks. Laid out on the embankment (in the recovery position), I sheepishly drive off; mirror, signal, manouvere, hands at ten to three (might be someone watching).
A lovely walk, lakes, hills, skylarks, views, buzzards...all is forgotten.
On the return drive, the horrors return. A familar stretch of lane, skid marks. I'd better check to see if it woke up alright. Damn, still there. Gentle shaking reveals an unhopeful 'stiffness'. Feelings of guilt are quickly alleviated when as I drive off, yet another pheasant sprints suicidally towards the car. An emergency stop, and angry remanstration with the chap results with its speedy exit. This week as last, the machette will do its stuff, the feathers will be plucked and I will realise that dinner does not always come in a vacuum packed, non suffering convenience tray.
'Baby faced' micra claims another victim. I pick up a floppy pheasant. "Might be just stunned" my inner child remarks. Laid out on the embankment (in the recovery position), I sheepishly drive off; mirror, signal, manouvere, hands at ten to three (might be someone watching).
A lovely walk, lakes, hills, skylarks, views, buzzards...all is forgotten.
On the return drive, the horrors return. A familar stretch of lane, skid marks. I'd better check to see if it woke up alright. Damn, still there. Gentle shaking reveals an unhopeful 'stiffness'. Feelings of guilt are quickly alleviated when as I drive off, yet another pheasant sprints suicidally towards the car. An emergency stop, and angry remanstration with the chap results with its speedy exit. This week as last, the machette will do its stuff, the feathers will be plucked and I will realise that dinner does not always come in a vacuum packed, non suffering convenience tray. 
7 comments:
Oh, thanks for the comment. :) I must say I loved staying in UK and Wales wasn't dull at all, just a bit rainy but who wasn't prepared on that. I love England and Wales! My host family was lovely, couldn't dream of a better one. Kind regards to you too sir from Sweden, Gothenburg.
Hej Isunia, tack sa mycket for kommentar. Jag tala inte mycket Svenska, so jag hoppas ni forsta mig.
Valkommen till 'Barkfoots' blog, jag hoppas till hora fran dig igen. Vi ses.. p.s. Apologies, I couldn't find Swedish font on my keyboard! Please don't take the wrong meaning of "hora"!!
Sir, that's the weirdest looking hood ornament I've ever seen!
I know you like the silver lady on the bonnet of a Rolls, but I'm telling you this: a stuffed fowl really isn't the same...
Yes, I really took a shine to the silver lady on the Rolls Royce, but after 1/2 an hours hard polishing I'd usually lose interest!
Please say you didn't eat it?
Well, I could say I didn't eat it, but it's rude to speak with your mouth full!
Okay, now I feel really guilty. I didn't mean to kill it. I took much needed tread off my tyres trying to avoid the little chap! I felt bad when I picked it up,even worse when I was plucking it, and the nightmare of chopping cute head & feet off......then the inside bits!!AHh. Even when it was on a dish looking like Christmas dinner I still felt a bit nausious. Why can't things always be 'fluffy'!...
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