On Finding Pheasant's Tail Feather Poem by Francis Duggan

I found it whilst walking through the vale
A feather from a pheasant's tail
Near two foot long with colours rare
And light as puff of summer air.

One don't find such things every day
With dark spots through the brown and gray
And though money wise it's value nil
Just finding it to me a thrill.

A feather from beautiful bird
If beautiful is strong enough word
To describe the bird whose tail feather i found
Midst rush and scutch grass covered ground.

I pondered on the pheasant's fate
He live in a precarious state
And pheasant meat is tasty bite
For fox to quench his appetite.

Like outlaw he live on the run
And hide himself from man with gun
But man has dog to make him fly
And there's loud bang and then 'he die'.

God loves all creatures great and small
From mouse to whale he loves them all
But man like cruel blood thirsty brute
All wild born creatures persecute.