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.