The doctor comes to visit Mr. Bird

Concern that Mr. Bird, the original Poinsettia Heights peacock, has been losing blood caused us to schedule an appointment with exotic animal veterinarian Dr. Renata Schneider.

To prepare for this, David went to the local bait and tackle shop and bought a fishing net. Big as it was, no one thought it was big enough for a full feathered male peacock, so it wasn't used. Instead, neighbor Laurie volunteered to make the tackle. After only a few moments of excitement she had her arms around him. Then it was into a pet carrier borrowed from the Wildlife Care Center to wait for the doctor.

Mr. Bird got a very thorough exam in the garage. He has many many blood feathers and they are bleeding at the base, where they go into his skin. It is apparently normal and it is only dangerous if he were to lose a cup of blood in 24 hours, the doctor said.

His biggest problem seemed to be the blood attracted a terrible quantity of feather mites. The doctor and her assistant Jane sprayed him thoroughly for mites and gave him a dose of medicine (long syringe down his throat.) Because he has lost blood, they also gave him a shot of B vitamins.
The limp we've noticed could be arthritis or the way the earlier wound healed, the doctor said. There is no fresh wound, thankfully. They weighed him and he weighs 12 pounds! That's a big bird. The vet felt he had gained weight since her last visit, when she thought he seemed a little underweight.

The amazing thing is how they put him in a trance. In order to weigh him, the vet tech tucked his head under his wing and put her hand over his eyes. This totally calmed him and put him in what they called a trance. The tech was able to take her hands off him and for a minute -- she didn't want to risk it any longer on the chance he'd perk up and get away -- he stayed there totally calm, with head tucked in.

Once released, it was clear Mr. Bird had his feathers ruffled!

Is she or isn't he? We don't know

All is well in bird land as White Bird and Blue Bird continue to chase around Poinsettia Heights. Is White Bird male? Or a female? We still are not sure. White Bird lacks the long feathers of a male peacock but the aggressive, territorial behavior (beware Muscovy Ducks! avast Ye Pigeons!) looks more teenage male than mature woman.

We still hope for eggs...

Could it be love? Introducing the lovely Ms. Bird (we hope)

As I came home from my jog today, I noticed two men getting into a truck in our neighbor's driveway. I didn't recognize them -- two middle-aged white guys -- and I thought to myself: I'm not sure if I'd recognize the people who actually DO live there. (This is the waterfront house across the street.)

The men immediately drove off. As I crossed the street to our house, I glanced back at their house, and there she was: A beautiful white peahen.

She picked at the ground in their yard a bit and I stopped to watch. Did the men drop her off? I think maybe so. But I'm not certain.

Meanwhile, Mr. Bird was oblivious, standing across the street in Manny's driveway. I had to get to work but, more importantly, I had to see what happened when Mr. Bird met Miss Bird. I tried to herd him into the street, thinking he'd spot her then. A contrarian, he went the other way.

Eventually, though, Miss Bird found HIM. She crossed the street and slowly worked her way into the driveway, too. There they were, face to face, in Manny's driveway. Mr. Bird fanned his feathers, shook them until they rattled, did his I'm-leaning-over-on-my-knees performance.

Miss Bird picked at the ground. Mr. Bird remained his best NBC-mascot routine. Miss Bird wandered off. I called David, who suggested I give her seed. She wondered into our front yard, where she acted unafraid of me and hungrily ate seeds from Mr. Bird's dish.

She's really a beautiful bird -- all white with gray feathers, a very slim and graceful neck, a few colored feathers at the top of her head. I took a dozen photos of her.

Back in Manny's driveway, Mr. Bird stayed in his formal display. This was going to take time. Darn. Had to get ready for work.

Twenty minutes later, after showering and dressing, the two birds were pretty much where I left them. Mr. Bird was still fanned out. Miss Bird was still acting like, well, a regular peahen going about her business. Will she stay? Will they hang out together? Could this be love?

Mr. Bird has dinner

We can't decide why or how Mr. Bird varies his routine.

Consider when Mr. Bird eats seed on our deck.

He used to visit regularly in the morning before I left for work. I'd see him at our back door, seemingly staring in, waiting for me to notice. Then, for no apparently reason, he no longer does that.

Now he seems to come for a snack at twilight, as is pictured here.

Mr. Bird is sleeping around

I know: I imply that Mr. Bird is being promiscuous, wherein we all regret that he hasn't had a lady friend in at least 15 years. (And, in the spring, when his feathers are long and magnificent and he starts each day with an impressive shriek or two, we suspect he'd be quite the stud if given the chance.)

No, what I mean to say is Mr. Bird isn't sleeping in our backyard perch every night. In fact, we don't know where he is sleeping some nights.

As it gets dark, we always glance out to see his nightly ritual of approaching the swing structure that is his perch on our dock. Generally, he pauses for awhile, as though summoning his courage. Or maybe he's enjoying his last few moments on solid ground. But, generally, he is there punctually and eventually with a hop and flap, assumes his night-time perch.

But one night last week and two nights this week, he never showed up.

We looked for him, but did not spot him.

This week, Sophia, the German woman whose obsession with Mr. Bird surpasses even ours, insisted he is sick because he did not eat any of the food she serves him nightly. She says he loves her food, and this can only mean something awful.

Well, last night, he was back in his perch and I don't see any change in his appearance. So, I do hope Sophia is wrong.

We know he must be getting to be an old bird, and we worry about him.

Welcome home, again.

A peacock sure looks sad when half his feathers are gone.

But we were very happy to see him atop our swing at sunset.

Maybe Black Dog was inside tonight.

Somehow, Mr. Bird found his way home, dragging his paltry feathers behind him.

Dog prompts Mr. Bird to move a bit

The papayas are taking over Manny's front yard, so I picked one and brought it inside. Turns out, though, that we're not that crazy about these papayas. They're good in a smoothie, but this one sat on the counter for a few days until I decided it would be a treat for Mr. Bird

That night I watched as the sun went down for the right moment to thrust this lovely orange fruit, split open with ruby-colored seeds spilling out, in Mr. Bird's pathway to his perch.

Only he didn't come.

A walk later that night turned up the usual neighborhood hub-bub about his activities. The Greek woman and her visiting sister explained that a large loose black dog (relatively new to the neighborhood) had scared him and he had flown a remarkable distance. (He ended up on the rooftop of the house across the street from our old house.)

Sophia (the German) strode up and dramatized the story with gestures and a heavy accent.

The guy who lives in the house with the dog came out, too. He's 20-something and overly friendly, the way drunk people can be. He went on effusively about his roommate. ("She's moving to Manhattan, man. Makes over $100,000 a year. She's the the marketing person behind Crocs. Got any money to invest. Man, invest in Crocs. You gotta see the new commericals she's making. She's got that guy from the Rolling Stones -- you know, not Mick Jagger, the other one," -- Keith Richards? I asked and he enthusiastically agreed -- "and Madonna and ....")

He wasn't too concerned about Mr. Bird, who spent the night on the rooftop.

Next evening, we watched and waited to see if he'd come "home." And he did! Whew. He showed no interest in his papaya, however, which I had been saving for him.

And then last night, again no bird!

Again, we walked in search of him, but this time we didn't spot him and we did not run into any chatty neighbors.

So tonight we decided to head out earlier, while it was still light enough to spot him.

And we did.

He was roosting on the railing of the dock at our OLD house. His tail feathers -- what's left of them after extensive molting -- hang down right over open water (I hope he doesn't sleepwalk!) and he's not very high off the ground.

We hope he's safe there.

We did notice that Black Dog was on a leash in his front yard, so perhaps Mr. Bird is afraid to go past him to get to his old roost at our house.

I hope Croc-genius moves soon, and takes Black Dog with her!