My Obsession Begins
I first decided I wanted a peacock in early March 1999. My father was looking through a farm classified ad magazine and jokingly mentioned at the dinner table that their was a pair of peacocks for sale. I instantly decided that I wanted those peacocks. Of course, I didn't get them. My parents just assumed it was a silly teenage stage, but after months of persistent persuasion (and one afternoon at the History Day Competition with my friend Megan, discussing peacocks constantly in front of my father) they finally realized I was really serious about this. But now they hit me with excuses. "They'd just be more mouths to feed," and "I heard they scream like a woman being murdered," were common ones. But I still wanted them, and I spent two weeks at Young Readers Young Writers camp over the summer thinking (and writing) about peacocks. Finally my parents began to relent and said that I could have some peacocks, but unfortunately then they stopped showing up in ads and we couldn't find a pair for a reasonable price.
Finally, in early October 1999, we found an ad, called the owner, and purchased four peacocks. That day, driving up to get my new peacocks, was one of the happiest times of my life. They were beautiful, and I loved them instantly. We brought them home and put them in a large, secure, dog-proof pen. (Our dogs had previously been known to kill chickens, cats, and other small creatures that resided on our farm) We were so sure our peacocks were safe. And for a few days everything was great. My birthday party was on the upcoming Friday, and I had sent out invitations to my friends overflowing with cartoon peacocks and peacocks strutting around and happy exclamations declaring that I finally had my beloved birds. And then the day came, and I got home from school happy as could be, and then disaster struck. The look on my mother's face told me something was desperately wrong. The dogs had dug under the fence, and slaughtered my poor pets. I was heartbroken, and when my friends arrived just an hour later I had to explain that my peacocks were ten feet under, God rest their poor souls.
But leave it to my dad, because the next day he and my brother snuck off, and they returned, when after all but one guest had left, with two new peacocks. I was so overjoyed. We named them Pete and Polly, and they are India Blue Peafowl. We then locked one of our dogs in a kennel, made the pen even more secure, and apparently it has worked because my peacocks are still alive today.
