Pheasant Landing
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.
When we came to a comparatively open section of the path, he took off and headed for the wood. Just before landing, he spread his wings as a brake, allowing me to capture an image with an almost heraldic quality.