On Finding Pheasant's Tail Feather

I found it whilst walking through the vale A feather from a pheasant's tail Near two foot long with colours rare And light as puff of summer air. One don't find such things every day With dark spots through the brown and gray And though money wise it's value nil Just finding it to me a thrill. A feather from beautiful bird If beautiful is strong enough word To describe the bird whose tail feather i found Midst rush and scutch grass covered ground. I pondered on the pheasant's fate He live in a precarious state And pheasant meat is tasty bite For fox to quench his appetite. Like outlaw he live on the run And hide himself from man with gun But man has dog to make him fly And there's loud bang and then 'he die'. God loves all creatures great and small From mouse to whale he loves them all But man like cruel blood thirsty brute All wild born creatures persecute.