Wild thing

It’s a game bird. We’re almost sure the little fluffy orpan that arrived a week ago today demanding food, water and shelter and threatening to not last the night, is indeed either a pheasant or partridge or something of that ilk. He’s developing some beautiful black and white polka-dot feathers and a growth spurt over the weekend confirmed that the rescue chick ain’t no hen – way too flighty and long-legged. Our little charge is on the move all day – unlike his chicken chick predecessors who simply played and collided like toddlers, falling asleep at regular intervals. The little chap is desperate to fly away and keeps on crashing into the mesh walls and ceiling of his brooder. Now growing into an adolescent and perfectly fit and healthy, this enclosure seems a little redundant.

I rang the RSPB who referred me to the RSPCA who referred me to the vet’s. Not sure what they’d do with it and pretty certain they wouldn’t thank me for the delivery either. A Country Living colleague suggested contacting a network of rescue centres so will try that tack today or perhaps we should just take the bird to our local farmer who could release it to join his own game. Oh boy, how these things can fly.

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