Pheasant on the Riverbank
I was on my way to a badger sett, walking along the Weaver in tall grass on a summer evening. Ahead of me, I saw the pheasant's head just above the grass, and he saw me. In the manic, brainless way in which pheasants always seem to deal with potential threats to their welfare, he strutted on ahead, dawdling till I got too close, then running on along the rough path.
At a bend in the path, I got a clear view of the bird, a brainless, beautiful model on a catwalk, showing off the latest totally inappropriate fashion.