This is the time of year when I have a moult. And I see I’m not the only one; Lord Strutt, -our garden pheasant, -has suddenly lost his tail. And it must be such an embarrassment for him, as it’s right in the middle of the breeding season, when he’s meant to look his best. Poor fellow.
Moulting is a very itchy business as old quills wriggle free and new ones push through. It’s a time of change and renewal. And I tend to go a bit quiet while it’s all going on. So I often find myself sitting on my favourite perch, reading the newspaper that’s lining the bottom of my cage.

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