What Does The Doctor Think This Month - May

Does global warming exist?  Ask my pheasant!

I have followed the global warming debate for many years and I have to say that I still have no idea whether or not it is happening. I know we have to think globally and that our opinion should not be affected by local circumstances. Therefore, I shall ignore the fact that I am writing this in the middle of April, with the heating full on, surrounded by a garden which is six weeks behind (even the bluebells are still hiding), having used 3 years' supply of logs in one winter in spite of living in the dark behind heavy curtains, with chimney balloons in the unused chimneys to abolish the downdraught, and newly installed double thickness loft insulation (in one large bedroom, we had to cut a new hatch in the ceiling to gain access to the loft above. We were just about to cut the hole in the ceiling, nice and handy at the bottom of the bed, when Lollipop rocked up and did her nut, insisting that we emptied one of the fitted cupboards, took out the fitted shelves and went up through the top of the cupboard. We now have a concealed loft hatch which, on reflection, is probably better than one in the middle of the bedroom ceiling.)

“So”  I hear you shout, “What about the pheasant?” We have discussed this fellow in the articles every winter for the past four years. He is a very brightly coloured cock pheasant (no, not a Golden) who uses our garden as Winter quarters. Deannie has many hanging bird feeders to cater for all types of bird. Some of the birds are messy feeders and some of the hanging feeders are incontinent – thus providing a mess of seeds on the ground to cater for those birds who are ground feeders. Enter the pheasant; at 5am daily, with a mighty squawk or ten, he comes out of his lair at the bottom of the garden and starts hoovering up the ground food. As the other birds tend to feed all day, this hoovering can go on all day and, although he may not be too posh to push (pregnant ladies who want a Caesarian Section) he is certainly too fat to fly. In the past, we have discussed his love life. He brings females to join him in his, sorry, our, garden. At his peak, he had seven of them and we discussed how, far from being lucky to have so many mates, he only succeeded in being exhausted and worn out by having seven wives telling him what to do. His pulling powers have faded and, this year, he has only managed one manky female but he does have a new best friend in the form of a wood pigeon from whom he is inseparable. They share the food on the ground, day in and day out, and the wood pigeon is now the size of a large chicken, almost unable to fly. He can just about make it up to the bird table but most of his nourishment comes from the ground seed. “Very interesting” you might say “but what about the pheasant and global warming?”

Initially, the pheasant would live in the garden from the end of October until the end of February. Like a cat, he owns us and tolerates us in his space. Each year, he has stayed longer and, earlier this year, he did not disappear until June, having trampled much of the young growth in the garden and generally made a mess and been a negative asset. So, if we are his winter habitat, and he is staying months longer each year, that would suggest that winters are getting longer and that global warming is a scam. Of course, it might be that he is too fat to fly over the garden wall and it takes him longer every year to raise the energy necessary to heave off to wherever he spends the ever shortening Summers. I can see where this is going – permanent residency!

I know the problem could be solved with a multiple simultaneous lead injection but that would give me severe managerial grief and, anyway, it is considered really bad form to shoot game while it is walking around. As he can't fly now, he is probably safe. Does anyone know how long pheasants live in a safe environment where they are well fed?

Tommy Cooper: A man takes his enormous Rotweiler to the vet who picks him up to examine him. “I'll have to put him down” says the vet. “Why?” asks the man - “Because he is really heavy”.

A man woke up in hospital after a nasty car accident. “Doctor, Doctor, I can't feel my legs”  “I know” replied the doctor “I've cut off your hands”.  Phone answering message “To buy Marijuana, press the hash key”. A two engined Cessna aeroplane crashed into a cemetery in a hamlet across the Irish Sea. To date, they have recovered 168 bodies with the death toll expected to rise as they dig through the night.

Best wishes to you all   Ian Nisbet