Williamson's Weekly Nature Notes

Cock pheasants here in the woods started their own war when the human artillery barrage against them ended in February.

Within a fortnight they were squaring up to each other. Then they were chasing the hens.

Their wattles bulged like poppies. They erected their tails. They even challenged my car as I drove down the lane.

Standing on tiptoe, stretching their necks, they crowed defiance.

Then they beat their wings in a brief drum roll. You could hear their clarion calls before the dawn when the days were calm. Sometimes they even crowed to the moon. The hens were impressed. They came running when their lord and master pretended he had found a morsel and clucked sweet nothings in her ear.

For full story see West Sussex Gazette May 30