The story goes that a couple of years back one of our neighbours owned a couple of peacocks. Neighbour moves out, leaves peacocks behind – as you do with beloved and cherished exotic pets – and the birds scuttled off into nearby bushland. Fast-forward a few years and we now have a family of 8-10 peacocks that strut up and down the cul-de-sacs like flamboyant, feathered gang-members (the babies have scraggly stunted tail feathers and are so cute I may just die from breaching my adorableness intake).
Sometimes they nest in our neighbour’s tree, like this one. Their majestic, ear-drum negligent cries can be heard at any time from pre-dawn to well after sunset, but I love having them around.
I far prefer their calls to human noise.