The Peafowl Bedtime Saga
At Ranch of Questionable Choices, we have four peacocks.
This is not a fun fact. This is a disclosure.
Here is your cast of characters:
* Han Solo: Foghorn energy, guard dog attitude, maybe three brain cells, all of them buffering.
* Leia: Plays the emotional worry hen. But behind the scenes she is all bite.
* Morpheus: juvenile peahen, mama’s baby, headstrong, and the usual chaos generator.
* Neo: Morpheus’s sibling, loyal sidekick, always down to participate in a bad plan.
Last night’s episode started with me believing a simple, optimistic lie:
Everyone was tucked safely inside the greenhouse.
They sleep in there on tree-limb perches. There are heaters. It is warm. It is contained. It is, in theory, the part of peacock ownership where I do not have to stand outside in the dark negotiating with a bird.
The plot twist: the Little Ones were not in the greenhouse
At a very responsible hour (meaning: way too late), I discovered that the “Little Ones” (Morpheus and Neo, the two younger birds) were not in the greenhouse.
They were on top of the greenhouse.
In case you are not familiar with Central Texas weather, we can have an 85 degree December day and then drop into the mid 30’s at night, just to keep you humble. That was the plan. Warm day, cold night, and my five-month-old birds were choosing rooftop camping like they were training for a wilderness survival show.
Meanwhile, Han and Leia, the older birds (seven months old and already acting like HOA board members), were safely inside the greenhouse.
So there I was, watching two small birds on the roof as the light faded, thinking:
1. You are too young for this.
2. I am too tired for this.
3. I did not sign up for “Extreme Roosting.”
Why I could not fix it (even though I tried to stare it into submission)
Peacocks have a few strong instincts. One of the biggest is the need to roost at night.
If they get confused at dusk, and let’s be honest, they probably did, “up” becomes their emergency plan. They panic while they can still see, and their solution is to go vertical.
Also, there is an important rule of bird ownership that nobody wants to learn the hard way:
There is no way to convince a bird to move once it is dark.
Once they are locked in for the night, they become decorative rooftop gargoyles with feathers. You can reason with them. You can bribe them. You can whisper “please” like it is a prayer.
They will still be sitting up there, staring into the night, thinking about whatever birds think about. Probably crime.
So I went to bed.
Not “went to bed” like a calm person.
I went to bed knowing two “baby birds” were on the roof. I checked the clock more than once. It did not help.
7 a.m.: I dressed like I was heading to the ice wall
At 7 a.m., still an hour before sunrise, I got up and prepared to go outside dressed like an extra from Game of Thrones stationed at The Wall.
In my mind, I was about to find two miserable, windswept peafowl clinging to the roof, learning an important lesson about choices.
You know what I found?
Morpheus and Neo were on the ground.
They were fine. They were happy. They were casually looking for bugs like they had not tried to shorten my lifespan the night before.
I stared at them for a long second, letting my soul exit my body and return.
Then I said, out loud:
Son of a #$%^. You guys are fine and I am going back inside to go back to sleep.
And I did.
Because if peacocks are going to free range emotionally, then so am I.
If you need me, I’ll be standing outside in my pajamas and googling “how high can peafowl climb when motivated.”