I wonder, even, how much of it does get eaten? It appears to be rather more of a sport for the ego, particularly the way the birds are deposited onto the bonnets of the 4x4 jeeps in some kind of machismo display.
I walk, and try not to let the hunters spoil my pleasure in this sunny and gorgeous, but cold, winters day.
As I walk through the trees, a live pheasant spots me and scuttles away. I prefer my pheasants this way.
I spot this frozen puddle, reflecting the near solstice, low in the sky, winter sun.
My grandmother comes strongly into my mind. She's dead at least 40 years, but in this moment she is alive and with me. I carry what she taught me, and I carry her essence with me.
I also become aware, not for the first time, that doing things and being busy is a wonderful foil against the empty feeling that arises in silence and space.
I realise, more strongly than ever, that I have spent a lifetime running from that emptiness. And yet, I also know, as I stand here staring at the sky, that it is precisely in the emptiness that a deeper mystery lies. A mystery that encompasses the infinity inside us, as well as the infinity radiating out.
This Christmas Season, I'm going to work at finding the space and silence, and sitting with the empty feelings that arise.