May journal 3

I am always amazed at how pheasants know how to survive. Raised without parents in batteries, shipped in crates, crammed tight, then released into a wild they have never seen, known, smelled or tasted. A night in a cold they have never experienced, hungry because there is no one to toss them grain, then the next day, they sit by the side of the road, in the ditches, perched on low branches as the men and dogs come to shoot them.

Many escape, more through the ineptitude of the hunters than the good sense of the birds, and a some, at the end of the hunting season are still here, used to the cold, the food they have to search for themselves, and by the spring, they have formed colonies, made nests.

I watched a great bronze cock this evening, crowing on the compost bin, one of his hens pecking about among the grass clippings, and I admire their resilience.

Later, when the sun and the bronze bird-god had gone to roost, and the air was grey and twilit, the owls came out and the bats, all silent, skimming low, skimming off unwary mosquitos, an unwary vole, all in the unbroken silence of dusk.

Today is @TopTweetTuesday day. This is my contribution.

Morning sea

Day began before I woke
while I slept it swum

slow and powerful
as a great whale

into the dark
sifting stars

dispersing shoals of night fish
turning them into blackbirds.

Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

11 thoughts on “May journal 3”

  1. I never thought of fish as being nocturnal or diurnal… When I lived in the briny deep we seldom knew the condition of the light above.
    Something for my pea brain to ponder!

    1. Well, I suppose the night ocean contains nocturnal fish and the day ocean contains diurnal fish. They’re tricky to see in daylight though. Look like swallows 🙂

  2. That is remarkable about the pheasants. And without needing anyone to tell them how wonderful they are! They just size up the situation and do what they have to do. A skill humans lost long ago. (K)

    1. It’s incredible. They’re not even indigenous to Europe, don’t like winter cold, yet they manage. Ask us to turn down the heating a degree and we scream outrage.

    1. I’ve seen the hunters release a batch of pheasants. It’s pathetic. The birds are crammed into cardboard boxes like small apple crates. They have to be thrown out because they don’t know what’s expected of them and they’ve never flown in their lives. Mostly they just sit together by the side of the lane. The hunters flap their arms at them to scare them off into the trees, then the next day they come back and shoot them.
      It seems to only take a few hours of liberty for some of them to organise themselves into family groups and move off. Amazing, yes.

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