Dewdrop World

[A shorter version was published of this in the Pasadena Star on February 23, 2020]

See this article--very sad. 

PUBLISHED: February 22, 2020 at 6:28 a.m. | UPDATED: February 22, 2020 at 6:28 a.m.

It happened when the the king of the demons left his golden abode on the island of Lanka in order to invade heaven. A surprise attack, all the gods fled in terror. One god named Indra– known as the god with a thousand eyes — took refuge under the wings of a peacock. In those days, peacocks were dull and colorless creatures. In gratitude for this protection, Indra granted the peacock the blessing of a thousand beautiful blue-green eyes of his own –for which to adorn his unusually long tail. With the power to kill poisonous snakes and serpents, the peacock has been venerated in India from very ancient times as a symbol of renewed life and rebirth. Serving as the mount of the Kartikeya, eldest son of Siva and commander of the army of the gods; is it the peacock alone who does double duty in the pantheon of gods? For the peacock also serves as the vehicle of Kama, the god of love and desire, and sometimes mount of Saraswati, goddess of wisdom.

Perhaps because of the famed  –and mysteriously misplaced– Peacock Throne of the Mughal kings or perhaps because of how often one can happen upon a peacock whilst strolling in a Persian-style garden, I had always associated the national bird of India with the north. But, according to a charming essay by P. Thankappan Nair, peacocks are originally native to southern India, where since time immemorial been a harbinger of the coming rains. Bringing relief from mounting days of great heat, the monsoon brings with it the blessings of renewed life and fertility. Likened to union of lovers, the ancients saw the rains as the coming together of heaven and earth. In European alchemy, the peacock is also a symbol of union and the harmonious integration of opposites. So during the time of great heat, the plaintive cawing of the peacock–dancing bird in the rains– heralds the blessings to come.

And, wow, they are loud! During mating season, their shrieking could wake the dead! And, more, what are they doing roaming the streets of Pasadena, California? Have you ever heard of the parrots of Pasadena? Well, if they are not loud enough, we also have peacocks!

For me, it was definitely NOT love at first sight. In fact, I took to complaining bitterly about our neighborhood peacocks. Their nightly shrieking during mating season had me up night after night. And I need my beauty sleep! I was initially surprised that no one had started an online petition to get rid of them– as had happened in this village in Durham County, England, where the population was similarly kept awake at night and terrorized by a party of peacocks. I will even admit, I laughed when one of the beleaguered villagers wondered about how they might taste!

“I’ve never heard of roasted peacock, have you? “

Complaints in Durham included sleep deprivation, peacock poop and damage to cars–and I thought, we have all that! But my neighbors were surprisingly patient, “The kids just love them…” they reminded me. Two neighbors had even been seen feeding them.

I just hated them–that is, until I finally saw the males in action.

“My Lords and Peacocks” said King George III.

The first time I saw King George (he is my favorite), he was gazing at himself in the reflection of a very clean and shiny BMW down the street. He just stood there staring at himself… At first I thought he was admiring how pretty he was (I could hardly blame him, to be honest) but then he began pecking the door of the car. Okay, so this is why people in our neighborhood are complaining about “tiny dents” in their cars. (That’s what you get for having such a clean car?)

Watching him, I realized he was pecking at his own reflection, because he thought that it was another bird!

Ok, maybe he isn’t the smartest. But what a specimen he is. Look at his sapphire neck–deep blue like the heavenly firmament in a illuminated manuscript. And that elegant crest, like the crown of an emperor. And how about his outside train feathers trailing behind him, speckled like a cobra. I wish you could see him in flight–just an orange streak of his under feathers streaming by you. Oh my God, was I falling in love?

It was about this time that my friend Sally told me about Flannery O’Connor’s peacocks. Did you know Flannery O’Connor lived on a farm she named Andalusia, where she had forty beaks to feed? She loved her peacocks, calling them the king of the birds. This wonderful infatuation began when she was five–captured on film with chickens–and it developed from there. No matter how her family complained, she remained firm in her devotion.

Reading her essays in Mystery and Manners, I quickly realized that when it comes to peacocks, the Anglo tradition is really very different from the Indian one. Whereas the Indian tradition views them as symbols of love and beauty; in the anglo tradition, we tend to associate peacocks with vanity and pride. This notion stretches all the way back to Aristotle, who remarked that, “Some animals are jealous and vain like a peacock.” I used to feel the same about peacocks–that is, until a party of peacocks (five females and three males) moved in to our neighborhood last year. And you know what? The more I watch our peacocks here in Pasadena, the more I am sure that the Indian tradition has it right. They are wondrous and enchanting. Especially when the males display and dance underneath an iridescent galaxy of radiating suns (like Indra’s Net?) in the brilliant California sunshine. Turning round and round, displaying their “underpants” (as Flannery describes it) shaking and rattling their quills–they are more beautiful than a rainbow when they dance. And yet looking around, the peahens always seem utterly nonplussed.

Been there, done that…?

And, reading Flannery O’Connor I see that I am not the first person to have been surprised by their hideously ugly feet! Scrawny chicken legs and that God-awful shrieking–ke ka ke ka ke ka — over and over as their turn round and round, rattling their quills like lunatics.

Oh, my beauty, how did you lose your golden voice? And where did you get those chicken feet?

A devout catholic, Flannery O’Connor was well-aware that in the Christian tradition as well, the peacock is a symbol of eternal life and the resurrection. The ancient Romans believed that peacock flesh would never rot. Augustine of Hippo would later test this in Carthage, noting that, “A year later, it was still the same, except that it was a little more shriveled, and drier.” Because they molt in autumn with their feathers coming back in the spring, peacocks came to represent resurrection and the Reborn God. Spring. And Easter. A friend on Facebook drew a marvelous picture of a Pesach Peacock! “The splendor of Easter and beautiful vision,” says another friends. This is why you you can spot them in Christian artwork from mosaics and reliefs in the basilica of San Marco to depictions in Renaissance paintings by Antonello to Fra Angelico and Fra Filippo Lippi. And just like in ancient India, Europeans of the Middle Ages also believed that peacocks could kill poisonous serpents.

“You shall know the truth,” said Flannery O’Connor, “And the truth shall make you odd.”

This is one of my favorite quotes by Flannery O’Connor. And she was odd. But peacocks are odd too. So it seemed like a match made in heaven, when I learned that guarding the gates of paradise at her Georgian farm named Andalusia was a hoard of peacocks–so numerous she didn’t dare count them; for a she explained, “I intend to stand firm and let the peacocks multiply,” she said, ending her essay “The King of the Birds” saying, “For I am sure that, in the end, the last word will be theirs.” And so it should be.