Dick Wolfsie
It was the biggest news in our neighborhood since several septic tanks in our cul-de-sac backed up and the sewage cascaded into Karen’s yard.
The story began when I went on a little jog around the neighborhood early in the evening. As I passed a row of homes, Brenda stood on the side of a neighbor’s house, peering into the backyard. She motioned me to join her in this clandestine observation.
We both peeked around the corner and there was Kevin. I was surprised to see Kevin. You would have been equally astonished. You don’t see Kevin in your neighborhood very often…probably ever. Kevin, you see, is a peacock.
Kevin seemed not to notice us, but he was certainly aware of himself as he preened in the glass sliding doors, either proud of his own plumage or happy to see a fellow peacock in Fishers, Indiana, where such birds are not exactly indigenous. I only later learned his name was Kevin because I discovered he has his own Facebook page (Where’s Kevin?). It turns out that there are also Kevins in several other cities. If you see a loose peacock, it’s a Kevin.
When I told my wife, she was very surprised. Why? Because I am not a heavy drinker, and I am drug-free except for Lipitor. But the photo I took did not lie. Kevin the Peacock was proudly parading around our neighborhood.
My first assignment was to alert our neighbor Bob, who is the unofficial guru on all things animal-related in our adjacent valley. His frequent hikes and keeps our neighborhood updated on the owls, deer, turtles, and coyotes that inhabit the area. Bob has seen it all, but never a Kevin.
After my observation, there were additional sightings. Eric tried to entice the bird with a scattering of blueberries at his feet. I’m not sure what he would have done if the bird had approached him. Either was Eric. Bob got in the action by shadowing Kevin from the street as he paraded from backyard to backyard. Bob had no real plan except to prevent the bird from wandering toward a nearby busy traffic area.
At one point, Kevin ended up on our back patio. I was not home then, but neighbors showed Mary Ellen photos they had taken. My wife was just a floor above when all this happened. “How could I have missed all the excitement?” asked my wife when she saw everyone’s iPhone pics. The explanation was simple: She was washing her hair. The shower was on, then the dryer buzzed along, and she was binging on old episodes of “Grace and Frankie” on her iPad. If six grown men had slayed a hippo on the floor below, she would have missed that, too.
Where did Kevin come from? Nobody knows. Where will he be next? Same answer.
Kevin’s Facebook page has grown to almost 5,000 followers, and it includes a map of where he was last seen. I am sure he is the talk of everywhere he visits. I know he brought genuine joy to all who observed him in our little neck of the woods.
Kevin roams freely, although he does have an affinity for one couple’s home, which he often returns to, only to wander off again. If you are fortunate ever to see Kevin, enjoy his majesty and splendor and remember that expression: “free as a bird.”
Television personality Dick Wolfsie writes columns for The Daily Reporter. Send comments to [email protected].
