The Local Pheasantry

Rural Pennsylvania on an early spring day. Getting lost along country lanes.

Red barns under scudding clouds.

Silhouetted silos

And the locals enjoying the sunshine.

It could have been Yorkshire.

Except the sheep looked different.

Though some of the houses were very English.

In a pretty graveyard

We discovered we had company

After making fools of ourselves dodging around gravestones, trying

 to get

a halfway decent picture,

we got back in the car and realised that, a little way up the lane there were more and more of them..

I see, that's why.

Now there was I thinking a hunt club was something to do with horses .....
If I were a pheasant I would scarper the !*$%^&** out of there but then I'm not a pheasant.