Flossie’s wild behaviour causes alarm

There’s been a murder.

And I’m afraid Flossie was the perpetrator. 

A couple of weeks ago, we were walking through one of our usual fields when we encountered a crowd of noisy pheasants.

It’s not unusual for this time of year and I wasn’t unduly worried as, while Flossie has picked up the occasional pheasant carcass that she’s found, she’s never appeared overly interested.

The pheasants scurried around, apparently unsure as to which direction to go in. I don’t think they’re known for their intellect. Flossie half-heartedly bounded after them but she was more focused on my treats. 

However, as we reached the bottom of the field, she became transfixed by a patch of undergrowth. 

Some vigorous flapping ensued.

She’d found a previously unseen pheasant and backed it up against the fence so it had nowhere to go. 

Its demise was swift. 

I was horrified as she emerged triumphantly from the bushes with the freshly killed bird dangling from her mouth. 

I’ve learned from experience that when Flossie finds (or, in this case, kills) such a prize, there is no chance of her giving it up. 

So, I had to wait.

She spent ten minutes trotting around the perimeter of the field looking for somewhere to bury it. 

Her efforts became increasingly frantic as she searched for a suitable place for her treasure. 

She tried to dig but the ground was too hard. Off she went again, the poor pheasant trailing from her jaw.

Then she disappeared through a gap in the fence. 

Now I was alarmed. 

I called and called. She didn’t materialise. 

I waited some more. 

Another ten minutes passed.

This was concerning.

Finally, I heard galloping paws. 

She was panting heavily. She was so tired, she flopped down onto the ground to rest.

There was no pheasant.

I have no idea where she left it – it would no doubt be snapped up by a hungry fox – but I was relieved we weren’t taking it home with us.

I do hope she gave it a respectful burial. 

As published in the Bath Chronicle, 26 October 2023