At that moment there came a soft thump from the wood behind us.
‘Hey!’
‘Ssshh!’
We stood listening.
Thump.
‘There’s another!’
It was a deep muffled sound as though a bag of sand had been dropped from about shoulder height.
Thump!
‘They’re pheasants!’ I cried.
‘Wait!’
‘I’m sure they’re pheasants!’
Thump! Thump!
‘You’re right!’
We ran back into the wood.
‘Where were they?’
‘Over here! Two of them were over here!’
‘I thought they were this way.’
‘Keep looking!’ Claud shouted. ‘They can’t be far.’
We searched for about a minute.
‘Here’s one!’ he called.
When I got to him he was holding a magnificent cockbird in both hands. We examined it closely with our flashlights.
‘It’s doped to the gills,’ Claud said. ‘It’s still alive, I can feel its heart, but it’s doped to the bloody gills.’
Thump!
‘There’s another!’
Th
ump! Thump!
‘Two more!’
Thump!
Thump! Thump! Thump!
‘Jesus Christ!’