This morning Green Lane is like an avian obstacle course. Just past the farm a large black crow leaps onto the path to peck at something in the gravel. A bug, perhaps, or a scrap of roadkill. On seeing my approach it quickly peels off and into the sky with a forlorn final glance at whatever treat it has left behind. Shortly afterwards a smaller black form hops from the undergrowth. This time a blackbird, simply crossing the road. It gives me a glance but is not frightened into flight. Two pigeons however are rather more startled as I round the bend at the junction for Rewe. They burst from off the tarmac like adolescent boys caught sneaking a cigarette behind the bike sheds. Finally, as I near the end of the lane and the relative business of the main valley road, a hefty pheasant explodes from the hedgerow and narrowly avoids hitting my front wheel. For a moment it scrabbles along beside me before lumbering into the air like a heavily laden and gaudily decorated B17. It achieves altitude slowly and then banks to the left across my path, back over the hedgerow and onto its target.
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