Always the same isn’t it? The season ends, and what do I see as I go about my day in rural England?

Pheasants. Everywhere. Plump, bold, cock pheasants, on the A1 as I wind my way out of Stamford and up towards Nottinghamshire.

There are a number of estates which the dual carriage way cuts through, and, more often than not, when there is a dip in the road down towards a natural plain in the landscape, you’ll find the odd bird gliding across the road.

Now, obviously, I keep my eyes on the road at all times, but it’s hard not to catch them in my peripheral vision. It makes me smile.

They’ve been through some experiences during the season, these birds.  

They’ve have eaten like kings and queens for the past nine months and will be sunning themselves in the summer. If we get one.

It also says something for the keepering on the estates, given how high they get and how well they fly.

Unfortunately, accidents do happen, and as the summer months come around, I know that I’ll see more and more pheasants on the side of the road.
 
These will be experienced birds and those who are still learning to fly, trying to cross a gap that is just too much for them.

I often find myself encouraging pheasants over the roads when I see them glide across my eye line.

Even though I’m not looking at them, I can be heard shouting “Go on, go, on, get over, don’t look at me, get over……..yesssss!”

Ultimately, every time I see a cock bird, it always makes me think of the season just gone and the ocean of time left until the next one starts. I’m missing shooting something chronic.

Still, it looks like City will make the play offs, and that’s something.