For a moment I thought one of the neighbours’ hens had escaped into our garden, but it turned out to be Philip the pheasant in moult. Gone were his ostentatious tail feathers. He looked considerably less encumbered and more spry for it.
Hoping to find the missing tail feathers, I took a tour of the front and back lawns. No luck. But I did find an awful lot of other jettisoned treasures.
“…wonderful. Science and history and geography and evolution and culture all tangled up in musings while walking about the moors around Hebden Bridge.”—PZ Myers
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