Nellie, I am sure that peacocks are every bit as stupid as pheasants. A few years ago, I woke to what sounded like a peacock. Thought I was dreaming but when I heard it again, I looked out and there it was, perched on the roof of a house across the brook. I heard later that a couple of them had escaped from a farm about a mile away.
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A bit of background for any who might be interested to know it!
This morning, as every morning I got up, went down to make a 
and feed the cats, leaving the window ajar for them to go out once they have finished. I trundled upstairs with my tea and settled down to look through emails etc.
After a while I could hear Oliver Sprout whingeing on about something (nothing unusual there) and shouted down to ask him what was the matter. Yes, I know he's very unlikely to actually tell me, but this often results in him thundering up the stairs like a pit pony being let out on a summer break and landing with a triumphant burst on the desk full of what he obviously considers to be "Very Important News".
This didn't happen, but the noise continued so I went to take a look. The first thing I saw were some large black feathers on the floor. The next thing was himself under the kitchen table with his mouth very full of magpie. 
Previous attempts at bird rescue (usually smaller ones) have never ended well, so I decided to shut the kitchen door and leave him to it. (I don't like magpies much anyway, they kill the young of other birds and do dreadful things to stuck sheep 
and we do have a lot of them around making their racket, which I could still hear coming from the trees outside) I planned to have my shower, then go down and clear up the remains with a dustpan and brush.
After my shower, I went down to make a cup of coffee and found Oliver Sprout sitting on a kitchen chair having a wash in a very nonchalant manner, and the magpie hopping about under the table . I removed Sprout, and went to look for back up. Neighbour 1 reacted as if I'd asked her to help out with some sort of satanic ritual and declined, saying she was late for work and had a fear of birds anyway. Neighbour 2 stuck her head out of the bedroom window and said she would just get dressed and be right with me, but I had the distinct feeling that it might take some time.
I decided to woman up and get a grip. I grabbed a towel and proceeded to approach the bird. It was more agile than I thought, and we engaged in a series of "bullfighting" manoeuvres as it hopped and fluttered around the kitchen, dodging the towel and me. Eventually I managed to corner it, threw the towel over it and picked it up.
Carrying it outside, I did wonder if the kindest thing to do would be to wring it's neck, but wasn't sure I could do it cleanly. I did very briefly toy with the idea of whacking it with a shovel, but thought that the sight of a woman with wet hair dressed only in a bathrobe bludgeoning an unidentified bundle on the grass bank might lead the neighbours to try to get me sectioned. 
I called up to Neighbour 2 that I had got it, so she didn't need to help after all. She popped her head out of the window and asked if it was still alive. I undid the bundle and as the wretched bird hopped and then flew (albeit at a low altitude) off, I said "looks like it, but I'm not sure how injured or shocked it might be".
At that point, Frosty, one of her cat's took off in hot pursuit of it
Neither of us have seen a dead magpie adorning our doorsteps, so I'm afraid the story doesn't have a proper ending.
Katek pheasants are known ditherers. The roads round here look like a massacre site at certain times of the year.
I've been told that they have tunnel vision, which might account for their behaviour.
Either that or they are just very, very thick.
Pheasants really are a hazard in our neck of the woods. Driving round the back of Berry Pomeroy Castle last year, the place was literally alive with them, can't think how we managed to drive along without squishing one. (DH just drove very very slowly and carefully.) They are incredibly stupid birds with no sense of danger whatsoever, added to which they are also incredibly lazy, never bother flying if they can help it, just walk about without a care in the world, right along the middle of the road.
Don't feel bad, Katek, I know it's horrible, but they're almost impossible to avoid sometimes.
(And roast pheasant is rather good, so I'm told 
)
KateK pheasants are a real problem on the roads around here at cetain times of the year, they are classic ditherers when it comes to crossing the road.
I have heard that they hve tunnel vision, which might help to explain their behaviour.
Or perhaps they are just very, very thick
I do keep a rubber mallet in the bedroom
WTF 
You country gals are very callous
Us city people rather like magpies - they brighten up our urban landscape.
All this talk of bashing and bludgeoning techniques!I'm staying within the M25 - it's safer
Blimey shysal! You're a hard woman!
My DH ran over a pigeon the other day. The sound stays with me. (I think it burst )
Indinana we hand reared a jackdaw, but that's another story 
shysal re the mallet, do you just bash, or put the victim in some newspaper or something? I was thinking about the mess......... Or perhaps it's more of a gentle tap, rather than all out bludgeoning?
In our first house we had background heating, which consisted of a big Husqvarna boiler in a cupboard with a flue going straight up through the centre of the house to a chimney. The heat produced by the boiler flowed out of air vents and were a complete waste of time, providing no measurable heat whatsoever to provide warmth to the whole house.
One day there was a dreadful racket coming from the heating cupboard, so I went to investigate. As I opened the door a jackdaw flapped its way out into the kitchen, narrowly missing my face . Luckily our estate was unfinished and there were several burly builders nearby, so I went and grabbed one . He came in, caught the bird and threw it out of the window. I thanked him profusely and he left..... and seconds later it happened again. A second jackdaw had decided to take a dive down the flue to find her beloved mate. This time I was more savvy. I didn't open the cupboard door.
Now the cupboard door was right opposite the back door, only about four feet from it. All I had to do was open the back door, and then open the cupboard door, and it would surely fly straight out. But I just couldn't do it. And I couldn't ask burly builder again. Too embarrassed .
My lovely next door neighbour came and did it for me in the end. She thought it was hilarious
And my 3 month old DS slept peacefully through all the commotion, safely tucked up in his cot upstairs.
Juliette
Thanks for the update Phoenix. I have been wondering how the story panned out. Oliver Sprout is clearly a very brave cat to take on a magpie. Our Cali specialises in goldfinches 
but makes sure they are headless before presenting them to me!
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