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Tale of the Male Pheasant

A Poem in Tribute

By Deborah RobinsonPublished 3 years ago 1 min read
Tale of the Male Pheasant
Photo by June Gathercole on Unsplash

His yellow eye is wide open.

He looks startled.

Seeing all. Surveying his current harem

Like a jealous lover.

His plumage is a fine satorial statement

Of his virility and his health.

Dots and ripples on his body

Dazzle his ladies

As he struts and performs.

His teal green neck feathers

Are beautifully iridescent

In the low autumn sun.

Its orange rays kiss

His sharp rapier-like tail feathers.

He marches through his stubbled field like a country squire

And if a rival should dare to approach

He struts sideways, displaying his size and his finery.

Scuffles are sometimes necessary,

Leaping with testosterone fuelled power.

He is master of this bare patch.

The red mask around his moonlight coloured eye

Speaks of a proud bird, always watching,

Ready to dance and fight.

Always watching,

Always beautiful.


My poem is inspired by the birds I see in a field across the road from a beach where I wild swim. I always admire their exotic beauty, anomalous among the bare stubble of harvested autumn fields.

nature poetry

About the Creator

Deborah Robinson

I'm new to the 'writing for real' scene. Previously, I've kept my poetry and writing under wraps in a fancy notebook, but now I've decided to give it a proper go!

I hope you enjoy my work.

Thanks, Deborah.

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    Deborah RobinsonWritten by Deborah Robinson

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