Recently, when we had to spend the morning at a bookstore to keep warm when our power went out in a snowstorm, I was thumbing through a new biography of Queen Elizabeth II when I came upon this little story I just have to share with you.
It seems that when royal hunting parties go out to shoot birds, the Queen assigns herself the role of picking up the dropped birds (and/or expertly directing her dogs to go fetch the ones far away). On one such shoot, a wounded pheasant cock flew out of a bush and straight into the Queen, knocking her over and leaving some of its blood on her clothing.
A nearby detective, seeing the fall and the blood, assumed the Queen had been shot. He threw himself on top of her to shield her and then proceded to give her mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.
The Queen's later observation on the incident was: "We got to know each other rather well!"
She promoted him.
It seems that when royal hunting parties go out to shoot birds, the Queen assigns herself the role of picking up the dropped birds (and/or expertly directing her dogs to go fetch the ones far away). On one such shoot, a wounded pheasant cock flew out of a bush and straight into the Queen, knocking her over and leaving some of its blood on her clothing.
A nearby detective, seeing the fall and the blood, assumed the Queen had been shot. He threw himself on top of her to shield her and then proceded to give her mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.
The Queen's later observation on the incident was: "We got to know each other rather well!"
She promoted him.
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