The Peacock Throne

It was around September 2003 that life took on new colour – If you crush bucketsful of emeralds and sapphires, scatter them together, then add some highlights of white diamonds and black jet,  you’ve got the palette which nature used to make the peacock
This was the colour we saw near our back door that day, spread over the beautiful majestic form of a peacock which measured easily two meters (6ft 6in) from head to the tip of his splendid tail.

That was a short visit – we put out some birdseed and a bowl of water which he accepted as a king might, not so much treating the serving wench with disdain, as just not noticing that she was there. Fed, watered, and rested in the shade of shrubs in the garden, he departed as quietly as he arrived.

We were chuffed. Fancy being visited by such a splendid bird, in a suburban lot only two kilometers from the city center? Admittedly, it’s a suburban lot with a back garden which is more like a rain forest, lots of big trees and a park next door, but even so, a peacock to share space with the already resident magpies kookaburras, doves, and assorted other birds was quite something.

Several months went by and Christmas preparations were underway when the peacock appeared again, quietly and curiously parading around the grass near the back door,  looking to see if the wench had put out the breakfast he expected. Hurriedly repairing this oversight we put out seed and water and our visitor repeated the earlier pattern – feasted ‘til replete, then lazed the hot humid day away in the shade of the garden.

We expected he’d moved on as before when he couldn’t be found in the garden at dusk, but not so. Around 3am in the morning, we started awake on hearing a piercing call. The peacocks call has been described as being like a woman’s cry for help, or a train whistle – all I know is that it was very loud, like it was coming through loudspeakers outside our bedroom window, and very penetrating.  Sometimes there was just one cry. Sometimes three or four with just a second or two between. These clusters of calls would be separated by what seemed like ten or fifteen minutes – just long enough for us to settle back down and get almost off to sleep again. I swear he could tell what we were doing and decided he didn’t like being ignored by us sleeping.

This was reinforced when I started to talk to him like one does to a restless baby in the middle of the night. He was obviously very close and could hear me, the voice seemed to sooth him, and settle him down for a while. But  as sure as I stopped talking and tried to get back to sleep, he would start up again. When 4.30 arrived I gave up and got up – about the same time, presumably thinking smugly that he’d done his job well, the peacock also left the tree and disappeared for the day. Hopefully, I thought, not to return. By now this splendid bird was generating less than warm sentiments in my heart.

A very tired but joyous day followed as we looked forward to a peaceful night. It was not to be – at dusk, the peacock reappeared, fed again on the bird seed and water, and perched in the tree adjacent to our upstairs window,  only about four meters away.

Remembering his reaction to my voice the previous night, I switched on the light in the bedroom below, opened a window, and left a radio playing on an all night station hoping that it would provide ‘company’ and keep the bird from making his raucous calls. It worked until about 4am in the morning – perhaps he tired of talkback I thought. So bleary eyed I stumbled downstairs, put on a Schubert CD and went back to bed again. Bad move – he liked Schubert even less than talkback, and made his feelings known in no uncertain terms until dawn again saw him take his leave from this comfortable B&B.

By the following night, desperation had set in – how to deter this bird from our previously peaceful patch? Perhaps, I thought, if the tree isn’t in darkness he wouldn’t want to perch there and would move further away? So, the lighted bedroom and talkback radio were supplemented by a 500w spotlight aimed into the tree. “Now if that doesn’t make him want to leave, nothing will” I said to hubby. Wish I hadn’t said that ! The bird continued to perch as before, but much to our relief he was at least quiet all night, until he moved the next morning and went off under a cloudy threatening black sky.

By mid afternoon the storm broke, and we saw the peacock reappear and for the first time run, taking shelter on the back verandah outside the kitchen door.
The Peacock Throne
During a break in the weather he delighted us by stepping off onto the grass and completing a pirouette with his tail feathers fully fanned – something I’d heard only happened when they were showing off to a peahen. Perhaps it was by way of apology, or payment for board and lodging – so like the total softies and suckers we are – we let him stay for a while but were determined to move him on by nightfall.
However, for another night, the process was repeated. Light and radio on, spotlight aimed at the tree plus this time there was drenching rain. And yes, you guessed it, when we shooed him off the verandah, off he went to his usual perch – and sat drenched and immobile for hours,  spotlighted and dripping in the silver rain until we went to bed near midnight. Again a blessedly quiet night - perhaps the light was at least keeping him silent?.

This morning we found him perched again on the back verandah, dry now and curious about the goings-on in the kitchen, he sat on his throne (the back of a wrought iron bench) ..... and pooped everywhere !

Attempts to encourage him to move on by shooing, and spraying with a hose (withholding food and water had already started) has met with no success – he regards our efforts as some sort of entertaining game, and with great skill and cunning finds his way back to shelter in some corner that we’re not currently watching.

Please – does anyone want a friendly and beautiful peacock? Or have any ideas how we can convince him he’s not a human and would be happier in a community with his own kind ?