Wooster, the Pheasant Rooster, has been out on the East Patio quite a bit today. He likes his corn, but during the past few weeks has developed a very special fondness for peanuts.

So have the feral cats that I feed here. Its interesting to see how close they will come to each other just to get a peanut.

But these are honey roasted peanuts, so all of them, pheasant and cats, tend to trespass space boundaries to get another peanut.

I don't think of them as sharks, but, they do go into a mild feeding frenzy.

And, they are very, very, diligent in prowling all over the patio, searching out that very last peanut.

Wooster, sometimes flies up on the roof of the house.

Yesterday, he was on the roof of the three story portion, scolding me as I carried in groceries.

Scolding me for not buying more honey roasted peanuts.

The closest Wooster ever comes to me is when I am feeding him honey roasted peanuts.

Twenty-four inches.

That's how close he will come for a peanut.

Imagine how addicted he must be to come that close to a former pheasant eater.

The feral cats will come even closer.

All nine of them.

So, you can just imagine how Wooster becomes the center of a whole lot of attention when I throw a handful of the honey roasts to him.

Its just feathers and fur all over those peanuts.

Wooster sat right on the mid-point of the peak of the roof of the house yesterday (about 24 feet high), and looked like a very gorgeous weather vane.

He was pointed South.

And never changed direction.
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We became acquainted two thanksgivings ago, when he was first heard crowing outside my bedroom window.

It being Thanksgiving morning, it was a no-brainer to imagine him saying, "I am not a turkey, I am not a turkey."

His having survived two hunting seasons makes him an old rooster. Most don't live that long.

I think he appreciates my not hunting anymore. Especially since I was a good pheasant hunter. (I used to shoot them one-handed, while carrying one of my children).

And even more especially because I really did like eating pheasant.
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My mom spent part of the summer talking to Wooster, telling him what a gorgeous bird he was.

And how she would like to put him in a cooking pot because she knew that he would taste so good.

When my mother talks like this, she gets a tone in her voice that reminds me of someone in the story about Hansel and Gretel and The Ginger Bread House. (And it ain't Gretel)

Every time she spoke to Wooster about this, he would just stare at her with a very cold, reptillian eye.

This past summer, Wooster spent a lot of time with me in the gardens, particularly during the mating season.

He'd flap his wings and crow at me for a half an hour at a time. This only happens alot during the mating season.

As I flapped my wings while hoeing in the garden, Wooster would flap his wings and crow for quite a while.

I suspect that he was being terrritorial, as roosters are, and mistook, or recognized me, as another rooster.

I notice that he also does a lot of crowing up by my mailbox. But that could be........
.......... because.........
....... my mailman is also a rooster.