I hit two pheasants simultaneously today on my way home from the supermarket. THUMP! THUMP!
Obviously I pulled over as soon as I could and walked the few hundred yards back to where it happened. One was… Well, it had gone under the wheel, so it was more like pâté than pheasant, really. The other had just been hit on the head and was otherwise intact.
I brought him home in my trunk. After all, even if the killing was accidental I would feel horrible if I didn’t put him to some sort of use.
His body will become a nice winter roast one day, and his feathers will become my mother’s New Year’s head-dress. (Yes, I can skin a dead animal – AND make something pretty for my mum… That’s what being a gay country bumpkin is all about!)