For nearly six months a handsome pheasant couple has been living in our garden. When the dogs are out, they take refuge in the huge old pine trees -- she in the one on the left, he in the right. We have acres of fields behind our house where hunters stalk their prey on the weekends. Apparently this couple has the dates on a calendar because Saturdays and Sundays they do not venture out of their safe haven.
During the week Charlotte sometimes sits between the two trees and the three of them converse -- that's my interpretation of the scene. My-Reason-For-Living-In-France has another one. He thinks the male, who has far more to say than his wife, is warning Charlotte not to chase them if she sees them on the ground.
I've always cherished my childhood fairy tale fantasies about animals talking and becoming friends.
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