So I toddle out to the back yard to read Bill Bryson’s Notes from a Small Island, which I am enjoying immensely. There may have been a cigarette involved.
I heard a rustling in the woods just beyond our tiny back yard. (Mill Hill Park, in other words.) Animal? Yes. Deer? No. It’s a bird… A large bird. Owl? No. Victorian Snowy Pigeon?* No. Oh, just the neighbour’s cat. No. It’s not the neighbour’s cat. It’s a large, heavy bird. Cautiously, I stood and approached the woods, skirting my large pile of garden/lawn detritus (it will compost in approximately 28 years, I think.) An odd bird, a white bird… With an unusual plume on its head. I moved ever closer, curious.
A white peacock was in the woods behind our house tonight.
I had two beers at dinner, but my husband can provide independent verification. A white peacock.
*This creature does not actually exist.