Week three in Dorset

Week three in Dorset and I’ve fallen into the old routine that will be familiar to all those who are looking after pheasant poults. Early morning finds me out with the birds, checking all is well from the previous night. Cleaning and topping up feeders and drinkers, checking the water is flowing and all the maintenance jobs that need to be done. I’ve started the birds ‘on the whistle’ while I feed. Not the tune I would use (after all I’m only standing in for Roy until he is up and about), but the few notes that Roy uses to familiarize the birds. They will soon register that the tune means food and come a running when they hear it, which will make life a lot easier as they grow bigger and wander further.

I’m not normal an early morning person, but I love these mornings in the woods. We’re far enough away from roads and traffic for there to be no man made sounds, save perhaps for the odd tractor starting up away off in the distance. We’ve been blessed with some sunny mornings; enough to take the nights chill out of the air. My favorite pastime is to sit on a straw bale in the pheasant pen, enjoy the sun on my face and watch the young poults scrabbling around my feet. Of-course it also gives me a chance to check the birds for any problems. None so far to worry about, Roy has done a good job in sizing his pens and ensuring there is the right cover for the birds to enjoy. I haven’t seen any sign of sickness; coughing or feather pecking that can occur if you don’t get it right. There are low rails for the birds to stand on and some small trees for them to hop up into as the fancy takes them. We did loose two poults earlier in the week to an owl, but I have used the old trick of placing a flashing amber beacon on the fence line (the type you used to see on road works), which seems to have done the trick and we haven’t lost any since. Fingers crossed that continues.

Kat usually joins me and we take some time after the checks to do the romantic walk in the woods. You would think we’d be old enough o know better but the setting makes our hearts young. Just the two of us and Ed (Roy’s Springer Spaniel that now follows me everywhere I go, Roy is seeing that as disloyalty, but he’s taking it well).  There is an old gas stove in the shoot store, where Roy stores sacks of pheasant food and all the other paraphernalia you need to keep the birds happy. Kat usually knocks up a bacon sandwich and puts the kettle on when we have finished our rounds. There is some thing magical about cooking and eating outdoors, even Ed gets a piece from my sandwich, another traitorous act which Roy would not see the funny side of, but we’re a team and why not, he works hard.

We normally have the rest of the day to ourselves and return to the wood around 7pm for the evening checks. If necessary we’ll replace the battery on the electric fencer and then test to see that 5,000 volts is running down the wire. As everyone who has touched a fencer wire will know it ‘kicks’. Not enough to kill anything or anyone but enough to deter a fox. I have known keepers who can grab a fence wire to test it, but I prefer to use a test meter and avoid my hair standing on end. Then it is back to Roy’s for dinner. Jennie is wonderful cook and most of the ingredients come from their garden and game from their freezer.  I may need to take up jogging to keep the weight down. Last night we enjoyed roast venison with veg from their garden, followed by homemade strawberry tart. It’s a hard life.

Written by Sporting Agent