Conservation, history, green living and local self-sufficiency are the priorities for these volunteers.

All | Charlotte | Jessica | Laura

Monday Oct 12, 2009

Peacocks Do The Funniest Things

After my last blog turned into something of a 'Random-People-You-Meet-While-Walking-Around-A-Farm-With-A-Hammer Say The Darn-dest Things' I decided that the only logical course of action, was to do an animal-based instalment.

Now, I know it's hard to believe, but before I started volunteering at Heeley City Farm I had no idea what a hormonal peacock sounded like. During the mating season, peacocks flare out their beautiful, brightly-coloured tail feathers in a timeless, regal and elegant display - and then emit a sound somewhat like a bag-full of ill-tempered cats, only with added notes of strangulation, distressed infant, and honking goose.

For the past month, it seems I've never been more than ten metres away from the farm's resident peacock. And, it seems he's never kept his beak shut for longer than ten seconds. There was initially something comical about the sight of him honking furiously away with tail-feathers at full-mast, while his peahen lady friend went quietly about her business, completely oblivious to his display. However, his angry-feline-meets-car-horn tones quickly began to get on my wick.

Then, one day I arrived at the farm and couldn't quite shake the feeling that something was amiss. I clicked and tapped away at the office computers for a while; I shredded; I helped one of the teachers devise an educational, recycling-based board game for her afternoon class; and still I felt out of sorts. And then it dawned on me: it was too quiet. With a sinking feeling that life was about to become far too Hollywood Tearjerker Movie for my liking, I looked out of the window at the duck pond, where the peacock had spent many hours happily making a racket.

There was no peacock.

Before the wailing strings could start up in my head, I glanced to the left, and there were the peacock and peahen, in a brand spanking new enclosure directly next to the pond. After breathing a sigh of relief that life wasn't as melodramatic as the movies, I realised that the peacock's silence had a moping, teenage quality to it, and was instantly smarting with indignation. I'd have sold my Facebook account for a place of my own (as in, my own house, not my own cage) and there was that ungrateful bird, sulking, when he'd just had his own private cage handed to him on a plate! I fumed to my nearest member of staff (while stressing that it wasn't the cage I was jealous of, but what it represented) who then told me that I shouldn't be so harsh on the poor, throwing-a-strop peacock, because he was depressed.

Why? Well, the peacock was depressed because he was missing the ducks.

It turns out the ducks and the peacock had been involved in a dysfunctional friendship that had culminated in all five ducks leaping onto the peacock's back and hanging on while the peacock spun around, trying desperately to shake said ducks off. Naturally, my heart sank to have missed this spectacle. The peacock's insistent honking, in turns out, had not all been aimed at impressing his lady-love. It had been partially the result of increasing tensions between him and his flatmates. I felt slightly guilty for all those times I'd winced at the racket and shot him irritated looks. While living in halls at university, I'd made a fair old ruckus if someone used my milk, or didn't wash the frying pan properly - but at least my flatmates had never attacked me en mass, leaping onto my back and forcing me to spin around to try and shake them off, shedding fist-fulls of feathers in the process! Although, one did have a habit of using my cooking oil, which was equally annoying.

Thankfully, the farm's anti inter-species-bullying radar was far more acute than mine, and they'd removed the peacock and the peahen from the duck enclosure pretty sharpish. Apparently, problem solved - but, in life nothing is ever simple. Ever since, the peacock had been subdued, moping around and being uncharacteristically uncommunicative. The ducks too, had been acting out of sorts, and had taken to lying next to the new peacock enclosure, bills thrust through the bars and beady eyes turned mournfully towards their favourite frenemy.

While the moral of this story could be: 'you don't know what you've got until it's gone' or 'you can't live with some people, and you can't live without them,' it could equally be 'don't honk more than you absolutely have to, or else you may just end up being separated from the ducks you were honking at, only to discover you were enjoying the drama, and now you're stuck with the peahen, who's actually really boring.'

Thankfully, I can report that both birds have since settled into their new home. The ducks no longer spend hours standing sentinel and are back to splashing happily around, and the peacock has even started honking again. The peahen is still oblivious to everything the peacock does; and I'm back to having a peacock-induced headache. Good times.

Posted by Jessica ( 1:13 PM )
Link to this post Comments[1]