Mr. Bird hopped up to his usual river-front perch right on time at dusk last night, spent the night in the usual spot and awoke us with his usual morning screams.
After he was safely atop his perch, Mr. Bird's fans began calling.
First, Ann, who played host to Mr. Bird for the day he was on the lam, called from the wedding she was attending. "I just couldn't wait any longer to find out what happened," she said.
I reported he was back where he belonged and all was well.
Then, Laurie called. Laurie is a long-time neighbor who works for a vet and is a true animal lover. In our house, she will always be known as "the lady who used to own the goat." Now she owns multiple dogs and I see her husband "running" them in the morning -- him on the bike, each dog in turn running on a leash alongside, little legs churning to keep up.
Laurie reported that she and her husband cornered Mr. Bird in Ann's yard. With no great fuss, she was able to grab him and hold his wings down. He did not peck at her or struggle, she said.
Holding Mr. Bird, she hopped in the back of her Jeep while her husband drove the four blocks back to Sophia's yard, where the peacock was released.
Laurie was happy to learn that Mr. Bird was on his usual perch.
"Let me know if I can ever help bring him back again," she said.
Please! Let's hope he's forgotten about his feathered friends and settles back into a comfortable routine on our safe little block, where he is so cherished.
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Saturday, June 23, 2007
Our peacock is back!
Tonight David and I were comfortably enjoying our gin martinis at the spot in our backyard we call martini point -- Adirondack chairs in the shade of a live oak tree (currently full of blooming orchids) with a spectacular view of the Middle River.
We were chatting about the sad sad state of the newspaper biz.
Then we heard it: Mraww! Mraaaw!
Unmistakably, Mr. Bird. And even better, at close range.
We would have run out to see where he was, except we still had one-third of a chilled martini with olives in our hands.
We figured: Five or eight minutes more won't hurt.
Nursing the last sip, we caught sight of him: Mr. Bird, walking casually through Sophia's backyard, handsome and healthy.
Within moments, Sophia was out there too, looking triumphant.
I'm not precisely sure what happened, but here's what I do know:
During the day today, I had at least four phone calls from Ann, the woman whose house Mr. Bird decided to make his new residence last night. She reported that Mr. Bird was "resting comfortably." That he had eaten some flowers. That they had put out water for him.
In the afternoon, Ann called to say that another neighbor, Laurie, who works at a vet's office, was quite comfortable handling big wild birds and was willing to catch and move him.
At first I balked. Would he be hurt? Should we intervene?
But Ann argued that her neighborhood has loose dogs and fast cars. Mr. Bird had thrived on our block for so long. Isn't that where he belonged?
I told Laurie: Go for it. Get our bird and bring him back.
So I assume that's what happened.
We're worried he's still searching for his friends. We're concerned he might wander again, and we'll have to decide whether to intervene again.
But, for now, we are celebrating that he is back.
We hope to see his nightly ritual of hopping onto our porch swing and then awakening us with ear-splitting shrieks.
Welcome home, Mr. Bird.
We were chatting about the sad sad state of the newspaper biz.
Then we heard it: Mraww! Mraaaw!
Unmistakably, Mr. Bird. And even better, at close range.
We would have run out to see where he was, except we still had one-third of a chilled martini with olives in our hands.
We figured: Five or eight minutes more won't hurt.
Nursing the last sip, we caught sight of him: Mr. Bird, walking casually through Sophia's backyard, handsome and healthy.
Within moments, Sophia was out there too, looking triumphant.
I'm not precisely sure what happened, but here's what I do know:
During the day today, I had at least four phone calls from Ann, the woman whose house Mr. Bird decided to make his new residence last night. She reported that Mr. Bird was "resting comfortably." That he had eaten some flowers. That they had put out water for him.
In the afternoon, Ann called to say that another neighbor, Laurie, who works at a vet's office, was quite comfortable handling big wild birds and was willing to catch and move him.
At first I balked. Would he be hurt? Should we intervene?
But Ann argued that her neighborhood has loose dogs and fast cars. Mr. Bird had thrived on our block for so long. Isn't that where he belonged?
I told Laurie: Go for it. Get our bird and bring him back.
So I assume that's what happened.
We're worried he's still searching for his friends. We're concerned he might wander again, and we'll have to decide whether to intervene again.
But, for now, we are celebrating that he is back.
We hope to see his nightly ritual of hopping onto our porch swing and then awakening us with ear-splitting shrieks.
Welcome home, Mr. Bird.
Mr. Bird won't come home
As the sun rose this morning, David was standing on Poinsettia Drive, watching the rooftop where Mr. Bird spent the night.
A woman with a dog greeted him: "Where've you been? I've been here since 6 a.m."
Within a half hour, Sophia, our bird-crazy neighbor, joined him. Soon there were people on bikes, kids in strollers, dog-walkers and various neighbors passing along the saga of how Mr. Bird had left his home to follow the new peacocks, who had since flown westward.
The previous day, we learned, Sophia had "led" Mr. Bird all the way from 15th Avenue east to the rooftop where he spent the night. This spectacle had developed a crowd and all the residents of that street were rooting for Sophia to get our bird back home.
This morning, I joined the throng about 7:30 a.m., with coffee for David.
Finally Mr. Bird hopped off the roof and headed for the cul de sac where the road ends because of the canal that divides that neighborhood from ours.
The assembled group tried to herd him down the street; he did everything he could to return to that cul de sac. Three times we blocked his way so he flew up on rooftops and then hopped from roof to roof to go back to the cul de sac. When he came down from these roofs, we continued our herding action. But he always evaded us.
I was the chief bird herder. It was very difficult. It was like a playground game, where somebody tries to get around you and you run from side to side trying to figure out how to prevent them from moving forward. Only my playmate could fly.
I finally decided that I was not going to succeed in getting him to 18th Street. At one point, I had him as far as the start of the Spanish church property, but he got around me and ended up halfway down that block again.
I gave up after about two hours, deciding that he IS, after all, a wild bird. If he has decided to move on, we will be very sad, but we don't own him.
He is free, and that's one thing we've always loved about him.
A woman with a dog greeted him: "Where've you been? I've been here since 6 a.m."
Within a half hour, Sophia, our bird-crazy neighbor, joined him. Soon there were people on bikes, kids in strollers, dog-walkers and various neighbors passing along the saga of how Mr. Bird had left his home to follow the new peacocks, who had since flown westward.
The previous day, we learned, Sophia had "led" Mr. Bird all the way from 15th Avenue east to the rooftop where he spent the night. This spectacle had developed a crowd and all the residents of that street were rooting for Sophia to get our bird back home.
This morning, I joined the throng about 7:30 a.m., with coffee for David.
Finally Mr. Bird hopped off the roof and headed for the cul de sac where the road ends because of the canal that divides that neighborhood from ours.
The assembled group tried to herd him down the street; he did everything he could to return to that cul de sac. Three times we blocked his way so he flew up on rooftops and then hopped from roof to roof to go back to the cul de sac. When he came down from these roofs, we continued our herding action. But he always evaded us.
I was the chief bird herder. It was very difficult. It was like a playground game, where somebody tries to get around you and you run from side to side trying to figure out how to prevent them from moving forward. Only my playmate could fly.
I finally decided that I was not going to succeed in getting him to 18th Street. At one point, I had him as far as the start of the Spanish church property, but he got around me and ended up halfway down that block again.
I gave up after about two hours, deciding that he IS, after all, a wild bird. If he has decided to move on, we will be very sad, but we don't own him.
He is free, and that's one thing we've always loved about him.
Friday, June 22, 2007
Mr. Bird leaves home
I heard thunder at sunset and the usual sound of Mr. Bird being vocally alarmed.
Except Mr. Bird sounded far away. And it was nearly dark!
As the sun set, we checked repeatedly, but no Mr. Bird appeared in our yard. His perch was empty.
This morning, as I drove to work, I had noticed him blocks from home, at the corner of Victoria Park and 18th Street. At the time, I thought: Wow, I don't remember seeing Mr. Bird this far away.
After dark, David and I decided to go for a peacock hunt. We walked Victoria Park to 18th Street, then took a right at the first street, so we were parallel to Victoria Park road on the other side of that canal.
As we reached Pionsettia Heights (the street that runs along the river and is the extension of 21st St. on the other side of the canal) David spotted him.
Mr. Bird stood atop a roof at the end of the street ( a house with the river in the back yard.) We watched for awhile, and eventually he settled into a semi-comfy position where we imagined he'd be OK for the night.
Did he go in search of the other peacocks (who have not been spotted for days)? Did he purposely go in search of a new perch or did he get lost as it got late?
We're worried he won't find his way back to our house. David plans to set the alarm for 6 a.m. and, armed with bird food, we will find him and entice him back to our block. David has visions of capturing and carrying him back. I have visions of leaving a four-block-long trail of bird food.
We're both nuts, right?
Except Mr. Bird sounded far away. And it was nearly dark!
As the sun set, we checked repeatedly, but no Mr. Bird appeared in our yard. His perch was empty.
This morning, as I drove to work, I had noticed him blocks from home, at the corner of Victoria Park and 18th Street. At the time, I thought: Wow, I don't remember seeing Mr. Bird this far away.
After dark, David and I decided to go for a peacock hunt. We walked Victoria Park to 18th Street, then took a right at the first street, so we were parallel to Victoria Park road on the other side of that canal.
As we reached Pionsettia Heights (the street that runs along the river and is the extension of 21st St. on the other side of the canal) David spotted him.
Mr. Bird stood atop a roof at the end of the street ( a house with the river in the back yard.) We watched for awhile, and eventually he settled into a semi-comfy position where we imagined he'd be OK for the night.
Did he go in search of the other peacocks (who have not been spotted for days)? Did he purposely go in search of a new perch or did he get lost as it got late?
We're worried he won't find his way back to our house. David plans to set the alarm for 6 a.m. and, armed with bird food, we will find him and entice him back to our block. David has visions of capturing and carrying him back. I have visions of leaving a four-block-long trail of bird food.
We're both nuts, right?
Friday, June 15, 2007
Out of nowhere -- two new peacocks
After 14 years as the only peacock on our block, Mr. Bird acquired company this week.
Just as Mr. Bird appeared on our block without explanation in spring 1993, two new birds have arrived.
As I began my 7 a.m. jog earlier this week, I spotted two birds pecking away at the side of the road.
Wow, big ibises, I thought. As I got closer, though, I saw they were a peacock and a peahen. They are much smaller than Mr. Bird, who was not around at the moment.
Throughout this week, the two new birds were spotted in various yards and were the talk of the neighborhood.
One morning, Mr. Bird flew down from his perch (he roosts on the frame of a porch swing on our backyard dock) and the two new birds immediately flew into our yard. They seemed happy to hang out together.
Some neighbors say Mr. Bird is quite interested in the pea hen. Others point out the pea hen follows around the young peacock as though they are "in a relationship."
We have debated over the years whether to get a mate for Mr. Bird. We were always reluctant to upset a situation that seems to be working out, though.
We love having Mr. Bird be part of life. We think he's a rock star.
Just as Mr. Bird appeared on our block without explanation in spring 1993, two new birds have arrived.
As I began my 7 a.m. jog earlier this week, I spotted two birds pecking away at the side of the road.
Wow, big ibises, I thought. As I got closer, though, I saw they were a peacock and a peahen. They are much smaller than Mr. Bird, who was not around at the moment.
Throughout this week, the two new birds were spotted in various yards and were the talk of the neighborhood.
One morning, Mr. Bird flew down from his perch (he roosts on the frame of a porch swing on our backyard dock) and the two new birds immediately flew into our yard. They seemed happy to hang out together.
Some neighbors say Mr. Bird is quite interested in the pea hen. Others point out the pea hen follows around the young peacock as though they are "in a relationship."
We have debated over the years whether to get a mate for Mr. Bird. We were always reluctant to upset a situation that seems to be working out, though.
We love having Mr. Bird be part of life. We think he's a rock star.
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