One morning, the first week we were in residence here at Lofty View Homestead, a loud squawking noise woke us. It was early. The sun only peeked above the ridgeline.
Still in that place of hyper caution–you know, what with all the dangerous wild life in the area– I crept onto the deck outside our bedroom. I have heard that mountain lions often sound like screaming and—and—that they often hunt at dawn. I shivered, grateful the deck has no stairs to the ground.
Peering over the railing, I breathed relief at the sight of two peafowl strutting below, calling to each other. One was dark, with the typical iridescent green and black on the neck and tail feathers. The other was almost entirely white, with only bits of darker feathers. Both had the characteristic top knot on their heads.
“Hey look, Lynnie,” I called with great relief, “we have peacocks or hens or whatever they are…”
Of course, with all my commotion, by the time she got through the slider and onto the deck, the two had vanished around the corner.
“See that blue plastic bin there?” She pointed to the middle level of the deck. “There’s chicken scratch in there. I’ll bet the previous owner fed the peacocks.”
I opened the container and threw out several handfuls of feed, hoping the birds would come back around the corner. They didn’t. At least not then. But, every day for the next several weeks, their squawking announced the return of the two pea fowl.
Then one morning, they didn’t come. The next day, only the dark one showed and that afternoon we found a pile of large white feathers below the deck. We were all upset, but concluded this is what we have to expect– living on country property.
For days the dark one, who JP named Kelly (an androgynous name since we still aren’t sure if it’s a hen or a young cock) moped around, calling and calling. Then it stopped coming around at all. I kept throwing scratch out, but he didn’t show. We figured he’d gone the way of the wild, as well.
Then, just the other day, we woke up to the sound of familiar squawking. I ran to the window and, sure enough, the peafowl–both of them–were strutting up the drive, as big as life!
We concluded that the white one, after a narrow escape from becoming that midnight meal, flew away and hunkered down, until it recovered.
JP, appropriately dubbed it, Ghost. We are all thrilled she found her way back!
Though the two don’t come by every day, they are still regular visitors to the Homestead!!