I spent the afternoon making spinach roulade and then jam tarts.

When I returned to the house I passed the cat barn. On the fence next to the barn were the remains of a hen pleasant, feathers, head and all. Nigel was looking mighty pleased with himself and this is what must have happened.

Nigel caught a pheasant last night or early this morning. Having killed and eaten the best bits he was full to bursting and didn’t fancy breakfast so he slept in late inside one of the blanket lined cardboard boxes in the cat barn. It’s the first time ever that he hasn’t appeared for breakfast. Oh Nigel and poor pheasant.