Soft spots: Peacocks in street
I used to hate LA's sprawling landscape, where everything is spread so far apart, and the distance between point A and point B was always measured by time stuck on the freeways. It was after I started driving to different places regularly did I realize how important a GPS system is. Hindsight is always 20-20. I wish I didn't spend the extra money equipping my car with a moonroof that I never use, and a spoiler that looks like a hazard more than a decoration. During these trips out in places normally outside of my work and personal range, I discovered many famed restaurants, beautiful hills, Europe-style town plaza, hidden spot for viewing breathtaking sunset, and once in a blue moon, five peacocks patrolling a quiet street.
Today I was on a quest to locate a book that's not available in any of the city and county library branches. Armed with the directions from Yahoo! Maps, I set out to find it in a city I've never heard of---this should give you an idea of how big LA really is. Unlike many other cities I usually travel to, this one was not right off or even near the freeway exit. I drove on the local streets for about 6 miles, and after a sharp turn, I arrived at the foot of a lush green hill, dotted with Spanish style homes with hipped roof, rounded doors and windows, and an occasional bell tower. The road winds up in a slow spiral path and I soon found myself deep in the the tranquility of a quaint village. The air was clean and crisp, with just a hint of the salty sea not far down the hill. Flowers bloomed and danced along the road.
The library, located in a secluded garden, was very consistently designed and decorated with the same signature style that has come to define the town, modern on the inside but exuding an undeniable old-world charm. It was as if I had stepped into someone's century old home, tiled floor, heavy wood tables that was smoothed out by frequent rubbing, decorative iron railings, old, comfy leather couches that swallow you whole and fill your nostrils with the rich, leathery fragrance that's often associated with having coffee or hot tea over a great book.
On my way back to the car, I took a detour from the back door of the library and gazed at the 4-layer fountain. When I turned around, I noticed two men stood about 30 feet from me. Normally I would not have paid any special attention except that the way their pose was very stiff and rigid, as if someone yelled "Freeze!" and they were caught in the middle of some act that wasn't supposed to happen. It piqued my interest instantly, so I inched forward toward them. I didn't know what was happening really but I knew something was not to be disturbed. As I got closer, I noticed the older gentleman was carrying a very professional looking camera around his neck as he spun around briefly to acknowledge me. I followed his gaze, and then I froze.
A middle-aged guy in Hawaiian shorts and a white T-shirt was diligently washing a giant bright yellow truck parked in the driveway. He was so immersed in the task he didn't seem to notice three people were gathering in front of his lawn. Right behind the truck, partially hidden by its wheels, stood a peacock, unmistakably male due to its indigo blue neck and the extravagant fans of iridescent tail feathers folded behind his body. I blinked several times. I have never seen a peacock outside of the zoo before. The peacock was very much at ease, turning its small delicate head from side to side, glancing at us with an authoratative air. He was not impressed by the dumbfounded expressions on our face as we all fell prey to his beauty and grace. For a while, it was completely silent except for the slow running gurgling sound of the water hitting the truck's surface as we three stood there, stoned to the spot and gawked at the peacock. Finally another voice joined as the older gentleman held up his camera and snapped away. The peacock tolerated our fervent admiration for a little longer, turning its head this way and that, but was never compelled grace us with a full plumage. Then slowly he moved away with his magnificent train making a wide turn, and disappeared into the side door of the house.
We started chatting with the proud yellow truck owner. It turns out that there are about 100 wild peacocks in this community, roaming around in streets and backyards. At night they rest on tall tree branches. They enjoy cookie crumbs, beans, and grew an acquired taste for potato chips. Many people have problems with them because of their distinct dissonant voice and that they raid the flowerbeds. I listened to this guy detailing the life of these beautiful pheasants as if they are common house pets, and found myself deeply jealous of these lucky people. Speaking of the plumage, the guy said, "Oh yes, they do that all the time. Not always for mating purposes though. Sometimes they just open up their tail to scare the predators."
I'd love to stay and chat, but right then I saw two smaller peacocks crossing the street. I continued my detour down the road and followed them. They walked side by side, in a light jogging rhythm, like schoolgirls on their way home, chatting and looking around in the streets for interesting objects. After I got a bit closer, I noticed their feathers were not as brilliantly colored as the one I saw in the backyard---they turned out to be peahens, appearing much smaller due to the absence of the train. I stopped and just watched as they went away, making a side trip to another yard. Turning around, the most unbelievable thing happened right in front of my eyes. There, two male peacocks were actually following me. Well that's my first thought, because seeing me facing them, they did not break their pace, pause or back away, instead they kept strutting away, in the directions of the two peahens. I was further assured of that after hearing the response calls made by the peahens when the two peacocks broke into a frenzy (bird) call as they passed me by. They probably warned their girlfriends to look out for weird ones like me.
It was by far the most interesting, almost borders on surreal experience I've had driving in the unknown land masquerade under the common name LA. I can only imagine the peacocks in that secluded, beautiful town, fly across the rooftop against the sunset, flocking together in bands, and covering the trees with their splendid plumage.
Today I was on a quest to locate a book that's not available in any of the city and county library branches. Armed with the directions from Yahoo! Maps, I set out to find it in a city I've never heard of---this should give you an idea of how big LA really is. Unlike many other cities I usually travel to, this one was not right off or even near the freeway exit. I drove on the local streets for about 6 miles, and after a sharp turn, I arrived at the foot of a lush green hill, dotted with Spanish style homes with hipped roof, rounded doors and windows, and an occasional bell tower. The road winds up in a slow spiral path and I soon found myself deep in the the tranquility of a quaint village. The air was clean and crisp, with just a hint of the salty sea not far down the hill. Flowers bloomed and danced along the road.
The library, located in a secluded garden, was very consistently designed and decorated with the same signature style that has come to define the town, modern on the inside but exuding an undeniable old-world charm. It was as if I had stepped into someone's century old home, tiled floor, heavy wood tables that was smoothed out by frequent rubbing, decorative iron railings, old, comfy leather couches that swallow you whole and fill your nostrils with the rich, leathery fragrance that's often associated with having coffee or hot tea over a great book.
On my way back to the car, I took a detour from the back door of the library and gazed at the 4-layer fountain. When I turned around, I noticed two men stood about 30 feet from me. Normally I would not have paid any special attention except that the way their pose was very stiff and rigid, as if someone yelled "Freeze!" and they were caught in the middle of some act that wasn't supposed to happen. It piqued my interest instantly, so I inched forward toward them. I didn't know what was happening really but I knew something was not to be disturbed. As I got closer, I noticed the older gentleman was carrying a very professional looking camera around his neck as he spun around briefly to acknowledge me. I followed his gaze, and then I froze.
A middle-aged guy in Hawaiian shorts and a white T-shirt was diligently washing a giant bright yellow truck parked in the driveway. He was so immersed in the task he didn't seem to notice three people were gathering in front of his lawn. Right behind the truck, partially hidden by its wheels, stood a peacock, unmistakably male due to its indigo blue neck and the extravagant fans of iridescent tail feathers folded behind his body. I blinked several times. I have never seen a peacock outside of the zoo before. The peacock was very much at ease, turning its small delicate head from side to side, glancing at us with an authoratative air. He was not impressed by the dumbfounded expressions on our face as we all fell prey to his beauty and grace. For a while, it was completely silent except for the slow running gurgling sound of the water hitting the truck's surface as we three stood there, stoned to the spot and gawked at the peacock. Finally another voice joined as the older gentleman held up his camera and snapped away. The peacock tolerated our fervent admiration for a little longer, turning its head this way and that, but was never compelled grace us with a full plumage. Then slowly he moved away with his magnificent train making a wide turn, and disappeared into the side door of the house.
We started chatting with the proud yellow truck owner. It turns out that there are about 100 wild peacocks in this community, roaming around in streets and backyards. At night they rest on tall tree branches. They enjoy cookie crumbs, beans, and grew an acquired taste for potato chips. Many people have problems with them because of their distinct dissonant voice and that they raid the flowerbeds. I listened to this guy detailing the life of these beautiful pheasants as if they are common house pets, and found myself deeply jealous of these lucky people. Speaking of the plumage, the guy said, "Oh yes, they do that all the time. Not always for mating purposes though. Sometimes they just open up their tail to scare the predators."
I'd love to stay and chat, but right then I saw two smaller peacocks crossing the street. I continued my detour down the road and followed them. They walked side by side, in a light jogging rhythm, like schoolgirls on their way home, chatting and looking around in the streets for interesting objects. After I got a bit closer, I noticed their feathers were not as brilliantly colored as the one I saw in the backyard---they turned out to be peahens, appearing much smaller due to the absence of the train. I stopped and just watched as they went away, making a side trip to another yard. Turning around, the most unbelievable thing happened right in front of my eyes. There, two male peacocks were actually following me. Well that's my first thought, because seeing me facing them, they did not break their pace, pause or back away, instead they kept strutting away, in the directions of the two peahens. I was further assured of that after hearing the response calls made by the peahens when the two peacocks broke into a frenzy (bird) call as they passed me by. They probably warned their girlfriends to look out for weird ones like me.
It was by far the most interesting, almost borders on surreal experience I've had driving in the unknown land masquerade under the common name LA. I can only imagine the peacocks in that secluded, beautiful town, fly across the rooftop against the sunset, flocking together in bands, and covering the trees with their splendid plumage.
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