There is a peacock living somewhere near our house.

We have no idea where it came from; I was leaving for work one morning this last winter, opened the door and it was on our porch. So of course I had to go quietly back inside, get my camera, and take a picture. Because no one would ever believe me when I told them that there was a frickin’ peacock on our porch.

And I was right, when I told Mother Dearest that night that I had seen a peacock on our porch she said it must have been a turkey.

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It's either a peacock or the world's first drag queen turkey.

 

As the weather has gotten warmer it has shown up more and more frequently, it probably lives somewhere in the woods around our house. Dad has seen it more than anyone, it will actually let him feed it bugs he finds, and one time he gave it some gum to see what would happen. (It ate it.)

He thinks it’s a girl, a peahen, but I’m of the opinion that it’s an actual peacock. We won’t know for sure until it finishes it’s spring molt, which has already begun. There are bits of feather starting to appear on the porch. It has an even more favorite perch conveniently nearby – Dad’s truck. The hood and the rim of the bed are deeply scratched, making the peacock less of a strange visitor and more of an odd pest.

Who knows, we might find out if peacock really does taste like chicken if it keeps at it.

 

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