Every morning and every afternoon, I refill the food containers with wheat for the throng of birds, and they all rush at me in a flood of colour. The only ‘odd-man-out’ is Phoenix 1, our golden pheasant, who tries to fit in with the rest of the birds but whose colours outshine everyone else’s, so he is a little excluded. They think he is the chaff but I think he is the wheat! As a result of these dynamics, he and I have become very close and I don’t think it will be long before he leaps onto my lap.
jmgoyder 