Well the latest on the peafowl invasion – and I think
we should be frank and say that that is what it is - was that Harry’s
braying and strutting reached a climax (well perhaps a sub-climax) the day
before yesterday with the arrival of a handsome female. Harry, celibate
for some 12 years, was beside himself, looking as if he would either burst or
shimmer himself to death, but my own assessment is that she was mainly
interested in his brekker, because soon after scoffing that she shot through,
leaving Harry to wander dejectedly up and down the street.
Yesterday she returned, with, apparently, a preexisting
(trainless) partner. They sat around Harry’s driveway (first pic
below) while he stood around putting on a bit of show, but if they had any
interest in that they lost it when I tossed them a few scraps of raisin bread
that they ate on the nearby car-port roof that is normally Harry’s
preferred stage for a bit of tap-dancing with his train erect in a bit of a
breeze.
The second pic below should bear the caption ‘do you
own (or even know) these rogue peafowl?’. These may be but 2 of a
larger number that has been the subject of reports in the neighbourhood, the
most recent being in the form of a complaint this morning that OUR(!) peacocks (3
of) were on a roof in Caley Crescent annoying someone’s dogs.
Honestly, officer, Harry is fully alibied and was definitely not one of the
dog-teasers. OK that narrows it down, we’re looking for a former peacock-owner
with one or more stressed dogs.
I notice 3 things about the recent arrivals: (1)
they are big-chested hefty birds compared to Harry who is, well, built along ‘racing
peacock’ rather than ‘draught peacock’ lines, the sort of
peacock that you would not bet on to come home from the beach without having
had sand kicked in his face (2) they seem to be what you would call, after
you’ve been to your dog-training lessons, ‘food-oriented’;
if they are to be taken into custody a trap baited with hot-cakes, raisins and
lychees might well do the trick (3) they are excellent flyers, flying
from roof to roof while they look for any fruiting tree or vine that might
within reach, or the contents of a neglected dog-bowl.
While I am on the line I shall offer a little wild-bird
ob. This morning I was having a bit of a scout around the farmlets of
Symonston looking for the source of the escaped poultry, and I drove a little way
up the gravel road to the historic ‘Mugga-mugga’ cottage. In
the middle of the pebbly road and reluctant to move from it was a Black-fronted
Dotterel. I have come across these birds before on such roads, and ‘gravel
roads’ are mentioned eg in Pizzey as one of their haunts. Why this
essentially wetland species, I think alone among its family in Australia and
maybe Australian birds generally, should have such a distinct preference for
such spots is a mystery to me.
