Home, where pears from the CSA ripen under the watchful eyes of goat and god
After spending the better part of September on eastern Long Island,
Esau the dog approaches the void.
I’m home in NYC, where fall has thinned the trees in Riverside Park.
Riverside Park in early fall: more view, less green
Home in the city, where the peacocks roam.
Phil, the white peacock, plays hide and seek in the foliage.
Our first day back, the dog and I visited the grounds of Saint John the Divine to check in on the three free-roaming peacock boys. We looked in the Biblical garden, our urban secret garden, but saw no peacocks.
New York City’s secret garden in early fall
No peacocks on the way to the garden’s romantic arbor.
Best place for a private talk or a moment alone.
No peacocks at the leafy throne.
Another favorite seat in the secret garden.
And no peacocks on the way out of the garden.
On the way out of the garden.
Suddenly we heard three loud squawking cries: Peacocks! We followed the sound and, slipping into a half-hidden construction storage area, we found:
Peacock!
The peacocks drop their glorious long tail feathers long before New York City’s trees drop their leaves. But that’s all right. The diminished splendor of the tail leaves us more able to appreciate the subtler beauty of their speckled wings and rusty underfeathers that perfectly match the piles of brick.
Gorgeous.
The peacock preened, turning his neck this way
preening peacock
and that, putting more kinks into it than seems possible
Peacock neck with many curves
However do they do that?
I wondered.
And then I remembered
that
I’ve already researched and written
about
the extraordinary cervical flexibility
of long-necked birds.
Birds have at least
thirteen
and as many as
twenty-five
cervical vertebrae.
Humans, by contrast, like all mammals,
have a mere
seven.
And some animals, notably frogs, have
only
one.
Really. One.
You can read all about it here, in
But I digress.
Let us return
to the peacock,
who continued
to bend and twist, with most impressive dexterity.
Cleaning up.
We watched for a while.
Elegance in the brick yard. Note the tail of a reclining squirrel in upper left.
And we, in turn, were watched.
Keeping a beady eye on us.
We became fascinated by the peacock’s scaly feet.
Walk like an Egyptian.
Eventually, we headed back into the open grounds, where we found the white peacock known as Phil.
Roaming the grounds.
He wandered into the bushes.
Phil amid the foliage.
He lurked among the flowers.
Lurking.
On our way out of the grounds, we found the third peacock in the grasses near Amsterdam Avenue.
Walking in the grass.
We stopped to watch.
Neck like blue grass.
He moved into the sunlight.
Feeding in sunlight.
And then we left.
Oh, it’s good be home.
Time for squash soup and a slice of baby watermelon.
Further reading on the urban peacocks of Saint John the Divine:
Great White Peacock of Morningside Heights
NYC Peacocks and Blossoms
Peacock Razzle-Dazzle (with video)
Wandering Peacocks of NYC
NYC Peacocks on Hurricane Sunday
Spring in Three Cities
Two-Eyed Prophecy of Spring
White Birds of NYC
