The Nova Scotia country boy released his pheasants into the wild on Saturday morning. Eight hens and one cock.
There were two cock pheasants but sadly, the larger one killed the smaller one on Friday afternoon. We'd both seen the big one chasing the smaller one but didn't think it would come to death so soon. And it's my fault that the little fella died, one day before the release; I'd asked Dwayne to hold off on releasing them a week because we were having friends for supper who I thought would be interested in seeing them.
Ironically, the friends never saw the pheasants; it was too cool and windy to sit on the back deck so they came right inside without ever seeing any of our birds.
They took their time leaving the pen then all of a sudden, a few hens took off, landing in the corn patch and on the back lawn (with an impressive, albeit unintentional, 8.0 somersault landing) then the cock and another hen flew over the house and suddenly, the pheasants -- a constant presence for the summer of 2016 -- were gone.
Over the past two days, however, the eight hens have regrouped and are wandering all over the lane like a girls' weekend.
The young cock has disappeared, and so far, no sign of the existing wild cock who inspired my husband to raise and release pheasants in the first place. Apparently, pheasants don't flock together like chickens do, although I hate to think the hens are on their own without the protection of a 'rooster'.
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