Now, my experience of lady pheasants is neither long nor exhaustive. But I had thought they tend to be shrinking violets, preferring to stay within the shrubby undergrowth, rarely seen.
Isn’t it the males who do noise and all the prancing about?
First spotted having a good old scout around at Ptolemy’s favourite Flappy Place, our latest arrival then came strutting along the garden path, up the steps and across to the bird table.
She paused only briefly in her journey to glare at us through the kitchen window before marching on straight through the previously floriferous Geum ‘Leonard’s Variety’ and off down the terrace wall.
The boys have gone into hiding.
The new Mrs P has all the demureness of Nora Batty. All she needs now is a broom.