I can't quite believe that April is coming to an end. In February it seemed so far away, yet it will be another year until I see my favourite month again. Treasure your Aprils my friends - we don't get many! My little feathered friend here obviously had an eye on breakfast and refused to be intimidated by the presence of a camera lens just a foot or so from his tailfeathers. Further up the valley a goat was enjoying the morning sun when he heard the sound of my boots on gravel. At this merest hint of distraction, a pheasant scurried up to his bowl and wolfed down a generous helping of grain. And who could begrudge him his spoils? The pheasants that have survived the winter shoots and hard frosts are beautiful things. Their tails have blossomed into long plumes and they seem to strut with pride and swagger. They know not, nore care, that their Aprils are very few indeed.