When I was a kid growing up on a farm in rural Oklahoma, we had a pair of nesting peacocks.  I loved the silly things.  They were very sweet and would sit on your lap for as long as you scratched their necks.  They did, however, take an unauthorized flight (yes, they fly–like B52 bombers, in fact) to the nearby town of Sparks, where their calls wreaked havoc on the revival meeting in progress at the local Assembly of God Church.  True story.  We even made the local newspaper.

A few years ago when we decided to produce some children’s picture books at Dragonfly Publishing, Inc. under the new Kittycat books label, I wrote a tale called Pete, the Peacock, Goes to Town in homage to that fateful day our peacock and peahen (i.e. the boy and the girl) decided to frighten the Holiness out of the good country church-folk.

The artist for that book, Chet Taylor, had so much fun illustrating the book that last year he asked it we could do another.  In 2011, Chet and I put out Pete, the Peacock, Goes to the Zoo.  When I was a kid (which admittedly was about an eon ago) the Oklahoma City Zoo had lots of free-roaming peacocks of many colorful variations.  I used to walk the zoo just to follow the peacocks, because I loved them so much.  So a second Pete, the Peacock book seemed a good fit for that positive zoo experience.

Well, a few years back, grass fires spread through southwestern Oklahoma City.  One affected area contained an old farm that kept the bright teal-colored peacocks like the ones we had on the farm.  In fact, my husband and I used to live just down the road in one of the housing editions that over the years had sprung up around this old farm and its huge barn full of peacocks.  I probably was the only person in the neighborhood who enjoyed waiting on the peacocks to cross the highway at 6:30 in the morning.

Anyway, back to the fires.  My husband and I were watching the news of the fires and saw a reporter camped in front of that peacock barn near where we used to live.  My heart skipped a few beats in worry, until I saw an army of blessed do-gooders rushing in to save the peacocks.  After some fairly effective “chicken herding,” all but one of the peacocks had been scooted into a waiting truck.  Well, one burly guy decided he would run down that pesky peafowl and “grab him.”  Yep, you guessed it.  With the evening news on live broadcast, this guy grabbed that thirty-pound panicky male peacock by the FEET.  In response, the peacock spread his six-feet wide wings, lifted his body into the air, and stared flapping with unrivaled fury.

Like brass cymbals cranked into overdrive, the tips of those strong wings clapped repeatedly against the sides of his would-be rescuer’s head.  Whap–whap–whap!!!  A few seconds later the guy fell back onto the ground, but was still holding onto the peacock’s feet.  Whap–whap–whap!!!  Finally, the guy let go and the peacock, none the worse for wear, flew into the truck to join its fellow peafowl.

Word of warning folks:  You move a peacock by grabbing it from behind and wrapping your hands under its belly.  You never run at it face-on and grab it’s feet.  Unless, of course, you LIKE being beaten to death by six-foot wide wings.  In that case, knock yourself out!