Well, not actually. Instead there is a peacock on the roof. The roof of my neighbor, to be precise. The attached photo is evidence # 465.23 why I need a better telephoto lens, but I digress.
Sharp and particularly well educated readers (by that I mean educated with respect to American humorists of the mid-twentieth century and most likely limited to my brother) will recognize the reference to the short story by James Thurber in which a husband starts to comment upon the presence of a unicorn in his garden, much to the growing enragement of his wife. Let’s just say the whole thing works out well for him as his wife is carted off to the ‘booby hatch” for calling in a unicorn. But I digress yet again.
Last night a peacock did mysterious appear on the roof of my neighbor. No explanation. We all trouped out to marvel at the bird who strolled back and forth against the evening sky, blithely ignoring the growing crowds below. Despite threats to hose him off, everyone pretty much simply gawked, made lame jokes about whether the house owner had a license (that would be me) and eventually we all went inside to our respective homes, leaving him to roost as he chose. Later the bird flew (did you know peacocks could actually fly?) to the roof across the street and then onto another backyard. “Hey, dad, there is a giant bird here!” was heard by my husband as he walked Hektor around the block. No “Missing peacock” signs have yet appeared on the telephone poles.
I hope he found his way home or at the very least found an amiable pea hen. But then, isn’t the peacock sacred to Hera? Hmm... let that be a warning to all errant husbands.
one of the neighboring CSAs in the area have two white peacocks
ReplyDeleteto guard the gardens. There squack is an unbelievable racket and
scare away deer and woodchucks. They follow the gardeners across
the road to the end of the day to the garden house, where they roost
way up high in an old magnolia tree out front.
They glow like angry, loud ghosts, and i worry every time that I'm
only imagining them, and only feel at ease once everyone's craned their neck and looked too.
Funny, as well, the child that said (so it seems) nonchalantly, "hey dad, there is a giant bird here." It reminds me of the part of sophie's world where they talk of children's willing suspension of disbelief, giving the example of a child saying "mom's flying" as she floats around the dining room.