Well, they are hatched, and we are happy.
Remember the mother pheasant who was found sitting on a clutch of eggs in a large flower pot by the back door?
That saga began three weeks ago, and since then no-one has been allowed to go near.
The postman was asked to leave the letters in the front porch. The delivery men were intercepted en route to the house.
Above all, the MacNaughties were banned from the area. Then their barking would rattle any expectant mother…
Because we feel protective. A bowl of water is positioned by said pot, and a close watch is kept on the area.
When the chicks hatch
We even name our feathered visitor. Flossie is now part of the family.
At the time our neighbour who is very good with birds tells us it will be twenty-three days before anything happens.
And to give her her due, that prediction is almost spot on.
Twenty-two days into the process and no-one is at home. The chief is off in his campervan photographing ruined castles on the far north-east coast.
I am in the Lake District at a meeting. And daughter dear is heading to France for a tartan ball. Hers will be the most exciting event, I can guarantee.
The nest is empty
Anyway, whist we gone up comes Linda to see how things are progressing.
She is about to get a fright. Because the pot is empty and most of the eggs are broken.
Despair strikes. Then a further search sees five tiny chicks following a hen pheasant into the bushes.
Hurrah! But the thing is, five more babies are left shivering in the pot. They appear to have been abandoned and they seem to be barely alive.
Linda springs into action. Not for nothing is she known as the bird lady.
Very gently she gathers them up in a tea towel and takes them to her house where she sits them on a special warming plate. And very slowly they start to come to.
Saved after a bit of warmth
And this is the result. Five more chicks saved. Hurrah!
Why the mother would leave with just a handful of her brood is anyone’s guess.
Then five would be a handful for anyone. Especially as I read that pheasants are not generally good mothers.
I suppose that nature works in its own wide way. Perhaps a mother can only physically look after a few.
What will happen to them all?
All in all, it is not a bad result, but we do wonder what will become of Flossie and her brood.
Where we live great buzzards circle overhead. The other day I saw a fox near the bird table.
There are the MacNaughties, our dogs who want to chase any bird cheeky enough to strut down the drive.
It is a precarious existence. In the wild, these birds have a life span of between one to three years.
I worry a little. Then, thanks to Linda, we have done our bit, and now it is a case of survival of the fittest.
