Some time ago I posted a blog about Mr Pheasant and his retinue of adoring ladies, who frequented our bird table every day and who almost fed from the farmer's hand every morning.He really was dressed in his finest array - with a thick white collar and a white stripe down the middle of his head, which set him off from other cock birds and made him even more distinctive.
He is still around, but what a pathetic specimen. All his ladies have deserted and gone off to raise families along the field margins. His job is done for another year; he has no need to attract anything or anyone. And, by golly, it shows.
His coat is drab; all his bright plumage has either dulled or fallen out; he skulks all day under the bushes by the bird table, rarely bothering to fly or even walk away; he looks utterly miserable. Seems this is man's lot.