Mr. Bird left lasting impression on many

We're grateful for the kind notes from friends and relatives who learned of the death of Mr. Bird, our neighborhood peacock. We didn't expect such a response for a creature who was, after all, a wild animal, not even a pet.

My daughter, Anna Blasco, added the peacock portrait to the condolence card shown here. Her sister Erin sent a beautiful bouquet with a note that said "we will always cherish the memories of Mr. Bird."

As Anna noted inside her card, our family had known Mr. Bird for 16 years. It was Anna who first spotted him walking down our street.

My cousin Sandy in Pennsylvania sent a kind email. My wife's brother and sister-in-law read of Mr. Bird's death on this blog. Our friends and occasional visitors Terry Kelleher and Ann Silverberg and their daughter Jia discovered the death on this blog.

They sent this email: "Mr. Bird was just one of the things that made your home such a great place to visit. White Bird would be well advised not to wander too far. She won't find a nicer neighborhood."

Mr. Bird's mate stays on for now

This may be the last picture we shot of White Bird and Mr. Bird together. It demonstrates how comfortable they were with one another.

White Bird seems to have chosen to remain in the neighborhood despite the death of her great friend Mr. Bird (see previous post). We believe White Bird is a female and quite young. So it is always possible that she will seek her fortune elsewhere.

For the moment she continues to patrol the neighborhood. She apparently roosts in different places at night so I, at least, never know where to find her.

Our neighbor Sophia credits White Bird with helping us find the body of Mr. Bird the morning he was killed. She says that White Bird appeared at her door but would not accept any food, and then went down to the seawall to peer into the river. This drew Sophia's attention to the seawall footer. One house down, under a projecting dock, she saw the body of Mr. Bird.

If White Bird had not behaved in this unusual fashion we might never have found the body. It would have floated away when the tide came up. Probably we would still be wondering where our beautiful blue peacock had gone. At least now, we know.

Last night Sophia brought over some flowers for the grave. As nice as they are, they will never match the terrific joy Mr. Bird brought into our lives during the 16 years he spent here.

Mr. Bird, died March 3, 2009

Mr. Bird, the beautiful blue peacock that has graced our neighborhood for 16 years, was killed before dawn this morning, probably by a raccoon. You all know how sad it is to lose a pet, so I won't go on about how bad we feel.

There is always something touching at these times. In this case it was Mr. Bird's mate, White Bird, who stood by me as I dug the grave and then scraped at it. She was his most devoted fan, following him everywhere and, we thought, pestering him. But eventually they seemed to get along and enjoy one another's company. I hope she will stay with us now that he is gone, but these are really wild birds, not pets, so that will be up to her.

I'm consoling myself that, after 16 years as a bachelor, Mr. Bird did get a mate last July when White Bird showed up. We haven't given up hope that there may yet be eggs, although we've seen no sign.

I was awoken at 5:46 a.m. this morning by Mr. Bird calling and the sound of flapping. Calls are not unusual this time of year, but it was still dark and peacocks don't fly in darkness. So the flapping alarmed me. I looked out the window to see Mr. Bird standing on his perch and looking down, as though he was about to fly to the ground.

That's odd, I thought; the sun isn't up yet, it's too early to get down. But the weather was cold last night and I thought perhaps that had something to do with it. If I had gone outside to check at that moment I might have saved him, but I went back to bed.

This morning by his perch were a half dozen long feathers, obviously snatched and yanked out of him from below. Mr. Bird might have safely stayed on his perch but my guess is that he flew down to make a run for it and was quickly killed. His body was left on the seawall footer four houses down.

I am guessing death came quickly because I heard only the one call. And, then, before I fell back asleep, there was one lonely call, from the front yard, where White Bird had perched. She was calling Mr. Bird, but there was no answer.