Cold January mornings rarely reward curiosity unless there is snow.
The outside cold and inside warmth have come to a détente and the mist has cleared from the windows. The patina of light shifts between silver and slate. It is a dull day.
As I sit sideways on to the window something registers out of the corner of my eye. It takes time to process this strutting palette of lacquered colours.
”…slowly and hardly breathe, fumbling to retrieve my camera and in three frames he has dipped beneath the boundary hedge and is gone!”
A cock pheasant is lurching slowly and haughtily across the lawn. He looks here and there, stops and tilts his head, listens for worms or danger.
His feathers overlays copper hues on black and are accented by silver grey. A feint purple dusts the edge of his white collar. The eyes are regal and outlined in dramatic red. A wrapping of navy becomes teal, becomes navy again, yielding to a dove grey at the top of his head.
I move slowly and hardly breathe, fumbling to retrieve my camera and in three frames he has dipped beneath the boundary hedge and is gone! Peering around in disappointment , moving from window to window, it is then I notice the snowdrops. Like delicate embroideries they shyly decorate the frayed edges of the lawn.
Nature surprises at the most surprising moments.