Snow Food Hunt: Who's the Hunter?

"Food, glorious food!" Zephyr the pheasant sang, eyeing plentiful seeds on the last year's tall grass. He landed on the pristine new snow, leaving beautiful wavy marks with his tail. "Whoops, didn't think it was this deep!"

The rooster grouped and pushed himself into the ground, hiding. He knew for sure there were predators in these lands. He then carefully stuck his head out, still hiding his body. His mother had named him Zephyr to celebrate his lightness, vibrancy, and colorful plumage. But what gave him an advantage in courting was a curse against the white snow, making him noticeable and vulnerable to bigger meanies.

"Shoot, there's barbed wire!" Zephyr thought and turned to the left, pushing his body through the snow. "Let's see if there's a hole somewhere or a trench I can use to get to the other side."

He moved several yards more and turned right, thinking he saw a way in. But he still couldn't get under the barbed wire. He started to move along the fence again, making several more attempts to get to the other side. His tracks were forming nearly perfect squares as he moved along.

Suddenly, just as Zephyr thought he found a way in, he saw a pair of red eyes right in front of him, watching him intently.

"Not your food!" Zephyr cried out, taking off sharply. One of his colorful tail feathers was caught on the paw of the wolf who'd leaped for Zephyr. Twas a narrow escape, indeed.