It’s time to talk about peacocks again. Many people have wanted to know if our visitor is still hanging around. At least I know that some people are reading this column and they want to know the rest of the story.
I’ll keep you in suspense for a little longer. The female peacock showed up again, always in the evening, just as twilight sets in. I was worried about her well-being, so I put an old milk can lid filled with water near where she hangs out by our back deck. I didn’t know if she had a place to get drinking water, even though it had been raining almost every day. I also worried about her spending the nights alone in the fields and woods. I didn’t know where she was hiding out, and there are coyotes roaming around this area at night looking for a meal. I doubted that any of them had ever dined on peacock or even been up close and personal with one, but it would be a Thanksgiving feast compared to a pheasant or other smaller birds. Peacocks are not native to the Frozen Tundra, at least not living in the wild.
My brother, David, reminded me that Esofea Park in Vernon County had a peacock strutting around in a pen when we were young. I had forgotten about that mini-zoo until he reminded me. Perhaps some of you remember when Esofea Park had a ball field, complete with a wire backstop and even a dugout area with benches. They also had a bunch of birds and animals in large, wire pens in an area near the ball field. I don’t recall what all the animals were, but who can forget a peacock when it fans its tail feathers? Apparently I did, but I’m glad David remembered.
Esofea was the closest place to us that ever had peacocks that I know of. I knew it couldn’t be a descendent of those peacocks that had been roaming the hills and coulees until it finally ended up on Coon Prairie almost 60 years later. But where did it come from?
A friend in Madison wrote and told me, “European Royalty considered having peacocks gracing their lawns as the height of sophistication… apparently she thinks you’re a class act (or royalty).” Well, the closest I’ve come to royalty is watching Queen Elizabeth on television. I suspect this peacock is delusional if she thinks we’re royalty. I know peacock feathers have been found buried with Viking warriors. Maybe she heard I have Viking ancestry.
People at restaurants, the grocery store, and at church asked if the peacock was still hanging around our place. At least no one accused me of being delusional, although after the story ran, my brother said, “Now I know you’re crazy.”
“So, what happened to the peacock?” you ask. I’m getting to that. One day I stopped at Premier Co-op in Westby and saw one of our neighbors. I asked him if he knew anyone that raised peacocks. He told me another neighbor on his road used to have some. He called them and asked if they still had peacocks. They did, but the peahen was missing. He told them she was hanging around our place. You just have to ask the right people to get answers to a peacock mystery.
That evening as it was getting dark, I looked out the window and there she was, eating flowers in our back yard. I couldn’t reach the neighbors by phone, so I jumped in the car and drove to their farm. They were in the field. I let them know the peacock had returned. I headed back home to keep an eye on it. Unfortunately, Linda said it had started down the road toward brother Arden’s place. It was getting dark as I hustled down the road on foot, trying to get ahead of her. I spotted her in a field on the other side of the road. I joined her in the field and was finally able to turn her back toward our place. She tried hiding in tall weeds a couple times, but as soon as I got close to her she took off again. I herded her, as much as you can herd a wandering peacock, back across the road toward our house. Then she took to the air and flew into the grove of trees next to the house. It was dark by that time.
The neighbors arrived and had a large net attached to a long pole. We spotted her in a tree, but she flew off into the hayfield as we approached. He followed her across the field and finally got close enough to capture her with the net. He came back, carrying the wayward peacock under his arm.
I found out they’ve had several peacocks roaming free on their farm for two years and I’ve never seen them. This was the first time one strayed off the farm. It was nice knowing Mrs. Peacock had a home and that she’d have the company of other peacocks when she got back. I’m glad she’s not alone.
So now you know the rest of the story. There really was a peacock. I wasn’t hallucinating or making stories up. I guess you never know what you’ll find in Sherpeland.
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