Pheasants my darling friends

Of the twenty Two million
Imported from France
Half die in transit
They don’t get a chance
Prisoners really
In Captivity
No survival skills
In small cages that be.

Away from their mothers
Imagine if you had no mother
To instruct where you might be
Whose

Watching out on the roadside
no clue as to why
Vehicles hit you and so many die
High road kill numbers
Foxes predate some 16 %
The figures not great

So ZEN Flow Reiki
Your statement that we
Know very little
Of Pheasants you see
You call them things
They are beautiful birds
Personally I have contempt
for your words

Killing the beauties a death that is swift
You are the ignorant one for their gift of life
Is sadly shattered some 40:per cent
Are wounded and die slowly in wild lament
Imagine shot through with loads of lead shot
The ultimate suffering just left there to rot
Creation that miracle never could be massacred really by the shooters for free

Sharing the spoils is your generous trait
It needs one to realise such a sad state
Known as “ditch chickens” not much of a taste
They need to be hung and it has to be faced
Prisoners caged and let out to be killed
By the great firing squads with so much blood spilled

You would rather see animals out in the field
Sad that you missed for half were concealed
All dying slowly to be eaten and pained
Whilst polluting consumers
Those given away to the poorer they ought
To appreciate toxic lead elevation
Not as perhaps thought
Go meet some of them it’s not just for sport
Blinding the naive all sadly untaught

A free range life sorry My Dear
a tiny cramped cage
Draws tremendous fear
All swiftly killed your ignorance flies
In the face of the fact
That a huge number dies
Slowly in agony, wounded and alone
They cry for their mothers
Stop by hear them moan
So many guns
So many words
Wounding is common
A bit like your words

Given life’s challenge
A lifespan of two
Years eating rat babies
That’s what they do
Hardly a healthy food
To become meat
Dead flesh and dead rats
Not my kind of treat

Campylobacter a high risk
It seems
Occidiosis and blackhead
Don’t feature in dreams
These sad wild souls
Frightened perilously
Murdered in cold blood
Vile deformity.

As to sport it is hideous
Graceless and sick
Repellent and odious
I think the thick
Hunters who do this
Could far better be
Appreciating the wildness
For a constancy.