A Photo 40 Years in the Making

We used to mimic their sounds when we were kids to taunt one another. The distinctive sound of the peacocks’ honk followed by its loud call, “er reh, er reh”. We simply liked to mimic the sound as “er waa, er waa”, as in a baby crying. We used that sound whenever one of the five of us was feeling a little bit sorry for ourselves. There were only two peacocks to start when we moved out to the countryover forty years ago, and they belonged to the neighbors at the bottom of the hill. There were only 5 houses on the on half-mile street so there was no denying where those peacocks came from. We would slow down when we drove by to get a glimpse of them. And occasionally, the lady of that house would drop a feather by for my mom. My mom would collect them and put them in a tall vase in our 70’s sunken living room.

As I grew, I got used to those peacocks and didn’t think much about them because they were a part of the neighborhood. Nine years ago, I moved back to my family home. I hadn’t thought about it much, but one day I heard that familiar sound “er reh, er reh”. It was surprising and familiar at the same time. Thus began my grand adventure to capture their beauty and their glory, from the care they showed each other as they moved through the yard to the sounds they made, especially the beautiful rustle of the feathers that is mesmerizing.

This time the peacocks roamed around the neighborhood and didn’t seem to belong to any one house. And there were several peahens in the ostentation. I enjoyed watching them come around and they were welcome here. Soon, there were many peafowl! I counted 25 of them, peacocks, peahens, and peachicks! They would walk in a large group from the front yard to the back, over the deck, and back to the front on the other side of the house. What a beautiful sight it was! I looked for them each day and watched them grow and marveled at the way they moved, the way they flowed through the yard.

Soon, they started to disappear. I noticed that some had moved to a different area one street over. I could hear them and would drive home that way to see what they were up to. In just a few months, there were only 4 left, two peacocks and two peahens. I am not sure what happened to them. I wonder if the development of the area scared predators their way. I wonder if neighbors killed them. I know that a couple of neighbors would find their nests and break the eggs to keep them from expanding their group. Whatever it was that was taking them away was taking them away quickly.

For a couple of years, we had those remaining 4 peafowl roaming around. I fed them daily and hoped that they would feel safe and stay in our yard. We named them. There is Rey, meaning “king” in Spanish because their feathers were at their grand peak during the huge Fiesta celebration we have in San Antonio. And Feyito, a combination of “Rey” and “feo”, in honor of the selection of the Fiesta king each year. The peahens were named Clara and Clarita. Why? Because when I looked at one of the females, the name Clara popped into my head. She looked like a Clara. Clarita was the smaller of the two peahens, so we added the “ita” to her name to signify her smaller stature. Clarita disappeared a year later. Then we were left with three.

Rey does not come around much, but you can hear him down the hill. His “er reh, er reh” is not quite as loud since he is at a distance, but he makes his presence known. Feyito and Clara visit daily. After trying several specialty bird feeds that they did not eat, we have stuck with feeding them cat food. Research says that they will eat it and that it is safe for them. They enjoy it and will let you know when they want to eat if you do not have their meal prepared when they arrive!

I have my camera ready when they come to visit. At first, I could snap pictures through the window. But if they heard the sound of the camera, they would run away. Over several months I started waiting outside for them, talking sweetly to them. I would toss out the food for them and stand still and watch until they were done. Gradually I was able to start moving around when they were here. I could stay in the yard while they ate. I have kept at this and now Feyito and I have an understanding. I can go out on to the porch and toss food and go anywhere I want if I am no closer than 7 or 8 feet. If I am not aware that he has come to visit, he knows that he can simply honk and call me, and I will be at his beck and call. He is rather patient, though. Most of the time, before he calls me, he will sit on the brick pillar near the porch and look in the front window to stare me down for food.

When it is mating season, he invites Clara over for dinner and does his specialty dance. At first, I only saw the feathers go up and he would leave. But now, he does a complete ritual. It is one of those experiences where you find yourself in awe; his movements during preparation, his feathers lifting, his turning and calling, the rustling of the feathers, the patience, the grace, the beauty of the colors. How is it that he is so stunning? The colors don’t look real. How can every part of him combine to that perfection?

It has taken me nine years to be able to capture Feyito’s glory in a way where we experienced each other in the moment as if he was doing his dance for me; he was offering up his beauty knowing that I was seeking it out. This photo was taken on that day, no editing, no filters.