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.

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.