| Home page |
The
Peacock Trap An
Ozarks Valentine’s Day Story Rolla
Two
weeks after my 3-year-old Java peacock escaped from his pen, I received
a phone call from one of my neighbors. The bird had established his new
territory in the timber surrounding the neighbor’s house. Thankful
that he was still alive, I threw my capture net in the back of my
pick-up truck and drove the mile and half to his reported sighting.
There he was in all his splendid glory. Less than a minute later he was
safely at roost atop a tall tree—out of reach! It was October. After
a week of this cat and mouse game, the bird would disappear into the
timber merely at the sound of my approaching truck. I needed help. I
called every state and local agency form the Humane Society to the fire
department. No one had a net gun or any other piece of helpful
equipment. Everyone was friendly, somewhat amused and wished me “Good
Luck.” Against
astronomical odds, I found his roost tree one freezing December night.
The plan was to blind him with a flashlight and poke his fuzzy, little
rear-end off the limb. Once he hit the ground, I would swing my net over
him before the poor bird knew what happened. Yeah, right. He never even
hit the ground. Instead, I watched him fly off into the cold, still
night disappearing within seconds, seemingly swallowed up by the
blackness. Well,
Christmas and the New Year came and went. My Java hen was still waiting
for her mate’s return. I
deputized a posse of friends. Maybe sheer numbers would aid in the
capture of the Java. We tracked his prints in the snow over hill and
hollow. I believed I could hear him laughing from a distant knob. Alas,
at day’s end, he had won again. Watching the sun set, I heard the
coyotes how and could not help but fear. Throughout
the month of January neighbors continued to call with reported
sightings. Friends would greet me with, “Have you caught the Java
yet?” Occasionally, driving into town, I would catch a glimpse of him
alongside the road. So close, yet so frustratingly far. His feathered
train had now grown to four feet in length. I was beginning to feel like
Wylie Coyote and considered looking in the yellow pages under
“ACME.” A
peacock trap is what I needed! So, I set to work. I bought 15 bales of
straw and made a horseshoe shaped structure three bales high in the area
he frequently roamed. I fastened a net over the top of the straw
structure and a 4x4 timber eight feet long to one end of the net. The
timber was placed on top of the bales flush with the edge of the
horseshoe end. I suspended a feeder in the back of the trap brimming
full of cracked corn, chopped egg and watermelon, all mouth-watering
peacock delights. Rope was then tied around the timber and extended
about 20 feet to a makeshift blind that I fashioned using an existing
brush pile. The last step was to pour a bucket of sand in front of the
entrance to the trap. The
following day, I checked the trap and his tracks were clearly visible in
the sand. He had taken the bait! I continued baiting the feeding station
for three more days. Each time there were clear tracks left in the sand.
On the fifth day, I crawled into the blind at 4 p.m. For two hours I
waited, hardly daring to breathe. I had only one small peephole to view
the trap’s entrance. Would he come? Then I heard a distant crunch,
crunch, CRUNCH sound. Mr. Java was approaching the blind. The dry leaves
on the forest floor crackled beneath his feet. My heart pounded. At
last he entered my line of vision. He looked from side to side and
majestically walked into the trap. When he pecked the feeder tray, I
pulled the rope. The timber hit the ground with a loud THUD and I raced
from the blind. He flew up and hit the top of the net. It held. Quickly
I squeezed my way between net and bales into the trap. Never in my life
would I have believed that I would be tacking a screaming, kicking,
spitting Java peacock sporting one-inch spurs inside a 4x4x3 trap. I
tucked him securely underneath my right arm and grabbed both of his legs
with one smooth grasp. After four months I finally had him! He had no
intention of giving up so easily however. He struggled one last time for
his freedom with the strength of bull elephant, but he misjudged the
capabilities of a determined Ozarks lady peacock farmer with pure
adrenalin coursing through her veins. I
crawled out of the trap on my knees and inched slowly along the narrow
passage between net and bales. I placed the outlaw in an awaiting cage,
fastened the door securely, and drove him home. On Feb. 14, Valentine’s Day, he was at last reunited with his lady love. |
