Today I spent some time just gazing out the kitchen window. One of the peacocks from the zoo across the way had perched in the bow of a tree and was sitting in all his magnificence with his iridescent plumage fluttering in the breeze. He was a beautiful sight. But he was not, alas, music to my ears.
If you have never experienced a peacock up close, which I hadn’t until I came here, it may surprise you to learn that the voice does not match the beauty of the bird. In fact, its crow is harsh and very, very loud. I am left wondering if this is a principle of avian existence. Premium songbirds like larks and nightingales are embarrassingly brown and plain while the showy glamour-pusses like peacocks and parrots make your ears bleed.
Of course, everyone knows that peacock feathers supposedly are bad luck because of the “evil eye” portrayed on them. This is a concept I have never understood – the evil eye, I mean. How, I ask myself, in a rational world can anyone bring harm to anyone else just by looking at him? So in the spirit of reasoned investigation, I tried to develop this powerful eye.
I concentrated. I squinted and glared. I glowered. Then – nothing. I never made anybody’s head explode, just gave myself a headache. I guess I just don’t have the talent.
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