In between the interminable periods of waiting for Kingfisher activity last week I kept my eye in for other opportunities. I have noticed before, on other holidays, how glorious pheasants look as they strut their stuff along the banks of the Bure. They look so different to the farmed pheasants let out to be shot over the winter months. These may have been farmed but found the escape route. Who knows? Something about these birds conveys a richness that I associate with Norfolk. I don’t know whether that is a perceived richness based say on Christmas cards or period television series’ portrayal of Norfolk landowning gentry. Suffice to say that if Norfolk had a county bird, I reckon it ought to be a pheasant.