Notebook #2

Part of my 'random thoughts from life in Japan' project

“The pheasant would live to a ripe old age if he just shuts the fk up.”

—Old Japanese proverb

Until I built a house in Japan’s countryside, I never actually saw a pheasant.

Now I’m swimming in them. And the only reason I’m even aware of their presence—the only reason I physically see each one—is their own ridiculously obstrusive call.

My god pheasants are jarring.

You can walk right past a whole family of pheasants, they could be at your ankles, and you’d probably never be aware. They are on the smaller side, they won’t even rustle a leaf or disturb a twig as they scurry through bushes, and they rarely spook out of their safe, woody havens. They only rarely fly. Pheasants are the definition of undercover.

But it’s the males who mess everything up. (Funny, that.) For no discernible reason—I mean, you’re just walking by, maybe you’re even 100 yards away, not eyeing them, not speaking to them, not pausing to admire them…you’re blissfully unaware they’re even there—and the male pheasant suddenly goes HONK HONK.

That’s really the sound. Like the horn on an old, rusted-out VW Bug. HONK HONK. And it’s damn loud.

Often I’m already leaving a pheasant’s area when he decides to do this. The honk actually comes from behind me, as if to say, “Don’t pretend to ignore me, big guy. I’m not nothing you know. I’m right back here.”

“Missed me!” (A male ruins everything for his family.)

I should hunt this bird. How easy it would be. I wouldn’t need to camp out for days in a cleverly designed hunting blind. I certainly wouldn’t need a bird call. And a dog? Nah, dogs could run around for weeks trying to flush pheasant and never even catch a scent.

Instead, I would just take a relaxing walk with a few friends. We could find any old spot, put out a few lawn chairs, have some beers, grab some rays, play some Wish You Were Here. When it’s finally time to head back, I’d stand and loudly say to my friends and to all the surroundings, wow gee, too bad there weren’t any pheasant out here today, let’s go guys. We’d pack up, actually start to head back, and then…

HONK HONK.

WHERE YA GOING, IDIOTS?