Carly in Clover

Today was our last day of dog-sitting and Carly thought all her Christmases had come at once when she disturbed a covey ( or a bouquet, apparently once she'd flushed them?) of pheasants on her morning walk up the hill. Frantic, futile attempts to follow all of them at once as they flew off in different directions were followed by a mad dash downhill interspersed with regular rolls through the dew-soaked clover - Carly that is, not us, tempted though we were! This was the result.