Developments crowding wildlife
My buddy and I were barely into one of our lengthy discussions concerning world problems when I spotted a magnificent pheasant rooster emerging from a neighbor’s hedge.
This guy had it all: the gorgeous plumage, the self-confidence, and the strut of a bird used to being the unchallenged cock of the walk. Astonishingly he ignored Bill and me as he made his way past us, stopping only to browse in a garden 30 feet away.
I ran for the house, yelling, “Honey you gotta see this bird!” She responded, “What bird!”
After interpreting my jumbled verbal response, which included all kinds of body language, she ushered me outside. We watched our visitor until he disappeared into evergreen bushes at the end of the block.
As we discussed the neighborhood impact of this breaking news, and wondered how we’d stand up to the pushy paparazzi, I noticed the mail carrier. Since the mail is a big event in life these days, I immediately headed out the door.
I was totally taken aback when I found myself nose to beak with the cock of the walk. Expecting to hear the pheasant’s signature cackle as the bird burst into flight, I was nonplused when he chose to narrow the distance between his beak and my shins.
Thinking, “My God this has to be a rabid pheasant!” I spun on my heel and raced for the front door.
Reaching the safety of the entryway, I exclaimed “Stand back, Honey! There’s an attack pheasant on the loose!” By the time my wife joined me at the front door, the rooster was lurking near the stoop.
Sizing up the situation as only she would, she stated: “I’ll bet the poor dear is hungry! He’s got to be someone’s pet!” Retrieving a handful of birdseed from a nearby stash, she blew past me, and boldly moved onto the pheasant’s turf, placing the handful of seed on the sidewalk near her feet.
Showing no anger or fear, the bird ambled around her sandals, cooing with contentment as he enjoyed his midafternoon snack. I grumpily stated, “Well. That goes to prove, once again, that the pathway to a man’s heart is through his stomach!”
Our visitor hung around for about 30 minutes. I don’t think I’ve seen as many neighborhood cameras in action since ice storm.
The rooster’s visit has become a pleasant, yet thought-provoking, event. I’ve re-examined the reasons behind our move from Montana to the Valley, and revisited some memories of our life since we made this place home. I’ve seen springer pups and kids cavorting in nearby fields. I’ve seen family afternoon picnic/shooting events, which featured either .22 rifles and tin cans or shotguns and foot traps, safely played out in secluded canyons and open fields nearby.
Whenever I’ve been lucky enough to have seen a pheasant in someone’s frontyard, a vacant field, or from the vantage point of my classroom window at Centennial Middle School, it’s made my day.
But most of the outlying areas I’ve referred to above are now filled with houses. Any remaining acre-sized plots are rapidly being filled with closely packed, unremarkable houses.
It’s starting to seem like there are two species being pushed out by development: our feathered visitor, and people whose values are similar to mine.