Ur-walks interrupted: The Unexpected Visitor

The Unexpected Visitor

Today the phone rang at 8.00 am. Not usual. I had only had one cup of tea and one cigarette, so in my semi-comatose state I answered, only to be exorted by my next door neighbour to "Get the boys to the window! There's something in my garden."
Needing no further explanation (Mary is not a woman who trifles) we did, and there was. The something was a peacock, not the most usual form of birdlife around here. I believe they are an Asian fowl.

After several minutes of regarding, there began the speculation, "Whose?"

After 9.00 am, having delivered the children to school, the street was already busy with sightseers, one of whom had presciently brought her camcorder.

And the speculation was continuing. The local vet had been contacted, who suggested ringing the local agricultural college (which is 20 miles away). The local agricultural college was closed, and the anwer machine suggested phoning the local vet. The local Scottish Baronial Residence denied all knowledge. And so did the Duke of Buccleuch, or at least, his agent did.
And still they came, to see the fabled bird in Mary's garden.
Someone said they knew someone who knew someone that had a peacock near Dunscore and that it had got away, but that was probably about 5 years ago. We looked at the bird before us. It had already refused both cornflakes and bread, and did not have a look about it that suggested 5 years of rough foraging. It did consent to sipping some iced water, regally, however.

Some genius suggested contacting the school and after a survey of each class the peacock's household was found.

Which left the catching of the peacock. The owner arrived with a net, which I glanced at and surmised was possibly trout-sized. I had seen the peacock. This man owned the peacock. He must, I thought, know something I don't.

Well, yes he did. It wasn't a young male peacock at all (my explanation for the lack of tail), but a peahen.

My surmise about the net was correct, however. It took 8 back gardens and approximately 7 hours to finally secure her.

She is home now, and locked up. The peacock is said to be delighted.

Here is short poem by Thomas Love Peacock, to make this post seem more interesting than it actually was.

Instead of Sitting Wrapped up in Flannel

Instead of sitting wrapped up in flannel

With rheumatism in every joint,

I wish I was in the English Channel,

Just going 'round the Lizard Point

All southward bound, with the seas before me,

I should not care whether smooth or rough,

For then no visitors would call to bore me,

Of whose 'good-mornings' I have had enough.