It's dangerous living in the country

Farmers and estate owners round our way rear thousands of pheasants every year so they can die happy in the knowledge that they have given a little pleasure to some country folk and a few city types.

I believe these specimens get together in small to medium sized groups – shooting parties, I think they are called.

“Hi, honey, I’m home. Bought you these two dead birds full of shot. Get Delia’s book out, there’s a love.”

As you have probably gathered, I’m not a shooting, fishing, hunting type. Can’t see the point when you can get a decent four-bird roast from Aldi for a few squid – and it won’t be full of lead.

Now try crossing the road.

I guess that’s the legacy of an early-years upbringing in a large city.

If a pheasant manages to avoid the shotgun, there’s still no guarantee it will see the day out.

For when one has seen several of his/ her mates shot out of the air it triggers some in-built defence mechanism that means their inner self shouts “Run, don’t fly”.

Looking at that theory from a basic point of view, it’s pretty sound.

Unless, of course, Mr, or Mrs, Pheasant has to cross a road.

! would love to know how many brace of pheasants are shot each season compared with the number hit by vehicles.

I have struck at least two or three a year. Add that to the odd deer, rabbit and hare that I’ve “been in collision with” (old journalistic habits die hard) and you’ll see how dangerous it really is in the country.

Which leads me to pose this question – why do pheasants cross the road just as you get within a couple of metres of them?

Why do they then insist on turning back as they are three-quarters of the way across or, as happened to me recently, try to outrun a car over a small humpback bridge?

All they have to do is wait for a car to pass, then cross safely.

Simples.