fledge capable of flying, from Middle English flegge, from Old English -flycge; akin to Old High German flucki capable of flying,
Old English flEogan to fly -- more at FLY
intransitive verb, of a young bird : to acquire the feathers necessary for flight or independent activity

Tuesday, March 25, 2008

Best Things Are Free Day 16








A place to strut in the sun and be yourself.

Occasionally, rarely, but nonetheless occasionally, a peacock will find its way to our street. 

Today was such a day.

There are a few spots in the area, in which peacocks live wild. Well, as wild as any Southern California suburb can get. Legend has it that the ancestors of these birds were imported to be living lawn ornaments in the gardens of some of the wealthier homes on the hill. Like so many of us imported species, the creatures liked the climate and stayed and nested and brooded and populated. Frankly, the property owners where these birds habitat do not much care for these finest of feathered friends. It seems the home owners find these ornithological interlopers, while perhaps beautiful (a matter of taste), to be large, rude, obtrusive and boorish. They take up too much room, strut about like they own the place and make it just difficult to enjoy the outdoors. Now, you must imagine for a minute some of these property owners who make these complaints and imagine the sizes of their homes, their cars and their egos. 

No wonder the peacocks feel right at home there, amongst their own ...  

FYI: Knoblauch skirt designed and sewn by Claudia G. ANTONIA shirt from Farbenmix, sewn by Sabine. Hey, I made the leggings!

3 comments:

SABINE said...

Einfach beneidenswert - Pfauen und Traumwetter - seufz...

GLG, Sabine

anjana said...

I am so jealous, I want to go barefoot, too.
I guess I'll have to wait until June for that pleasure.
The birds are nice, but they are also very loud when they scream.

One of our neighbors down the road have some, better them than me, lol.

I do love your pics!

Anjana

Benito said...

Nancy,

I don't know if you ever got to experience this, but your uncle (my great-uncle) George raised peacocks for a while back in Greenville, Mississippi. Mid-1980s is what I recall. He was raising them to sell the tailfeathers, and as I remember the damned things screamed unholy hell most of the time and rested up in the rafters of the barn, which made walking underneath them a dangerous proposal.

The other thing I remember from that trip is that George had a full-sized backhoe in the yard and my brother and I got to dig holes to our hearts' content. It's one thing to take some shovels and dig a pit in the backyard, but it's a whole other matter to involve hydraulics and heavy steel machinery.

There's a reason why small boys are not often allowed on construction sites.

Odd how the mind works; I just remembered how your father used to give us die-cast metal models of various tractors and cotton harvesting equipment, of course in Case/International Harvester Red.

Cheers,
Ben

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