Magick is an enigma. He appeared one day at the sanctuary, strolling down the driveway as if he belonged, and decided to stay. During the day, he would mingle with the chickens, and as dusk fell, he'd ascend the mountain to roost among the trees. With numerous predators lurking, each morning was filled with dread, fearing for his safety. Yet, when I called out to him, he would emerge from the forest's edge as if by magic, much to my relief. Despite this, the worry lingered, prompting us to construct a predator-proof abode for him. He entered his new home and has since made it his own. From March through August, the breeding season, he proudly displays his splendid plumage. And as the season concludes, his feathers fall, leaving a collection at my feet.