Pheasants

The other evening as dusk was approaching, Dylan (the dog) and myself flushed a cock pheasant from high in the trees at the edge of the wood. This morning another pheasant (probably the same one) flew from the wood and down the road. It was flying down the middle of the road at just above car height. If a truck or bus had approached, the pheasant would have been killed and other consequences could have been substantial.
At this time of year, the local 'shoots' are in the process of releasing pheasants from the release pens. These birds have little or no idea about survival in the wild. They continue to be fed, and can easily become silly tame. They also wander from their release site. The wood lies well over a mile from the nearest shoot. They have been known to turn up in gardens even in the middle of housing estates.
I have to be careful with Dylan, as these birds tend to run and then fly low over the fields, he is a natural hunter (or, half of one anyway), and so gives chase. He has caught a cock pheasant in the past, but as I do not wish to be accused of poaching, I try to avoid a repeat performance.
These are not native birds of course, reputedly having been brought to the UK by the Romans. I personally doubt that without the regular replenishment of stocks that they would become a permanent feature in our landscape, not, at least in this part of the world. For, although I do sometimes come across broods that have clearly been wild-reared, the number of tooth and claw ranged against them in not inconsiderable.