Tony Grist (poliphilo) wrote,
Tony Grist
poliphilo

Cuck, Cuck, Cuck...

Cuck, cuck, cuck, cuck. It sounds like something electrical malfunctioning but I've heard it often enough now to know it's a pheasant announcing his whereabouts as he pecks about under the bird feeder.

Dear Mr Pheasant, you and I have to share this planet with creatures of my species- Prince Andrew for instance- who think it's a grand form of entertainment to blast your sort out of the sky with shotguns- but please rest assured that I have little sympathy with them and am wholly on your side. I wish I could persuade you to stick around here and make your home where you'll be safe- but I know you won't. Once you've scavenged what little there is to scavenge you'll be heading back to the killing fields where you were hatched and raised because you're not very bright- as is amply demonstrated when we meet your cousins on twisty country lanes and they continue to promenade, cuck, cuck, cuck, in front of our wheels as if we were the procession they were so magnificently heading...

Vaya con dios, my pea-brained, beautiful friend....
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