The Hand That Feeds...

On Friday night I was thinking about what pictures I should post on the blog this weekend.  I had pretty much decided what the post was going to be but then fate gifted me with two fantastic opportunities in the space of a few hours.  The first encounter was going to be this week's update, and then two hours later while we were gardening, we were given an even better one.  (The first encounter will be posted next time.)

First a little background. When I started this blog back in June one of the early posts focused on the pheasants that had become semi regular visitors in the garden. (You can find that post here).  I also mentioned that the female was quite content with us being a few feet away from her.

In that intervening time, they have been paying us visits every day. My partner wondered if it would be possible to hand feed them and decided to give it a go. In a surprisingly short period of time he did literally have them eating out of his hand.

We've christened the pair Bill and Betty.

Bill was at first reluctant to feed from the hand, content with gobbling peanuts that Terry threw just a foot or so away.  Eventually, he did pluck up the courage to feed direct from the hand.

Betty liked to take advantage of a couple of areas around the garden where she could give herself a good dirt bath.  I don't know if this a hen thing as we have never seen Bill do this and Betty did so after she had fed.

We were both concerned when Betty's visits stopped abruptly making us fear that she may have met an unfortunate end.  Bill, for his part turns up like clockwork.  Early in the morning when we get up for work he is looking up at the kitchen window and then again around seven in the evening.

Then three Sundays ago I was ironing in the living room and happened to glance out of the window and spotted Betty by the bird feeder we have in the corner of the garden.  I smiled, relieved that she was still alive and pecking at the fallen seed from the bird feeders along with the sparrows. Something didn't look right and then  it quickly dawned on me that they were actually too big for sparrows and went to get a closer look.  I took the next photo from the bedroom window.

Rather than meeting a grisly end, Betty had been on the nest and had three chicks.  This was her first visit in weeks.  We hoped that this would be a regular occurrence and we set up the camera trap to see how often they came by.

Disappointingly, they didn't.  Three weeks and nothing.

Until yesterday.

We'd spent most of the day gardening, cutting the grass in the garden as well as the drive and footpath that run past the house.  I was about to close the garden gate when Betty and her chicks crossed the drive and slipped through the hedge into the garden.

There were only  two chicks with her, and frustratingly, with Betty and her chicks (we've decided to call them Pip and Squeak) less than five feet away from us my camera was sat on a chair just behind them.  I admit to swearing under my breath that I had a fantastic photo opportunity and my camera was out of reach.

Then I realised that I did have my phone with me, so I managed to capture some video of them.

Terry very quietly slipped away to their left without spooking them.  He then filled up a small tub with nuts and gave them a shake.  Betty recognised the rattle immediately and headed off in that direction, chicks in tow, allowing me to grab my camera and take some photographs.  (If your wondering why Terry is wearing wellingtons on a warm August weekend this is because he was cutting the grass along the footpath that runs past the house and there are a number of inconsiderate dog owners who can't be arsed to clear up their dog muck.)

We were sad that Betty now only had two chicks. Then Terry pointed something out when I was prepping this post.  The three chicks that I photographed a few weeks ago look to be larger than those we saw yesterday.  Surely after three weeks they would be a lot bigger?

My first pheasant post did indeed feature two hens which we presumed to be mother and daughter.  Because we never saw them together again we assumed that the daughter had moved on.  We now think that we have actually been feeding three pheasants instead of two, and that Betty is in fact two different birds.  It's not uncommon for a cock to have a harem of hens.

We're hoping that the chicks will make it.  It would be great to see them develop over the coming weeks.