He didn’t understand the screams. He couldn’t comprehend the tears. He had found something special in the garden,
and brought it straight into the house for them to see.
He would have given it to them freely. They didn’t need to bribe him with a piece of
beef, shove it into a plastic carrier bag and whisk it away. Astounding
ignorance! It was a treasure to be
carried proudly, tossed in the air, plucked until a fall of feathers drifted
across the carpet.
A red-legged partridge, bred at nearby Gorhambury Estate for
the English toffs to shoot escaped his doom and made a
bid for freedom. A rest on the journey,
a quiet peck, a friend who wanted a game and played a little too roughly, loved
a little too much. From perfect pet to top predator in a matter of seconds.
R.I.P. beautiful bird.
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