Feathered fop

When I heard a squawk like the sound of a rusty hinge, I knew we had one of these in the garden. 

What I hadn't realised was that he was right under the window of my office. Sadly, after I'd snapped this, he legged it across the grass to be at a safer distance from me. 

Still made a hell of a racket though, even at the other end of the garden. I wonder if that grating call stops him getting too big-headed about his dandified plumage?