Some days simply refuse to come together to produce a single accomplishment.
Although I am in the fortunate position where this matters not, it is never-the-less irritating when the disruption is due to power outages followed by internet failures.
Those came mid-morning and lasted some five hours. Earlier, my time had been absorbed in a different and most acceptable way.
Returning from a quick run to the post office, we found Ralph the peacock waiting at the front door. As he hadn’t come by day before, we were quite pleased. Not that Ralph is obliged to visit every day, but unacquainted with his schedule, we find ourselves constantly on the lookout, ready to rush out with his boiled egg and raisins.
As if he would be put out by being kept waiting the few second it takes to peel an egg.
Really, we just like to know that he is alright.
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Ralph is often at the front door. Is it to look at his own reflection, the way budgies do? Or is he interested in the cats? They exchange what seem like very meaningful looks, that is except for Little Man who prefers action! Seeing Ralph at the door, he charges up to the glass and is frustrated by the barrier it represents.
Ralph is not a timid bird, but the sight of a charging cat does cause him to take a step back.
Ralph is obviously accustomed to people and probably other animals and we suspect that what he really wants is companionship. He apparently knows what a door is and that if he waits, someone may come out to feed him and talk to him.
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Ralph also knows how to draw attention if the door fails to open.
After feeding the boy his egg and raisins, I talked to him while he groomed and after a second handful of the fruit, he wandered off up the hill, so I went back to whatever I had been attempting to do.
No sooner had I settled at my desk than I heard a familiar call, but I could see Ralph wasn’t at the front door, so I went to check the patio and he wasn’t there either. When another call came, I realised he was on the porch.
This time I took him out some birdseed which he pecked at while we talked some more then, finally satisfied, he strutted off to wherever it is he goes.
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Curious to see where that might be, I followed him one day.
Seeing that he was scratching about near the garage, I continued on up the hill to offer encouragement to the rose of Sharon bushes that had seemed unproductive of late. They actually have a lot of buds, but some get eaten by deer and the rest I think fail to bloom due to lack of sunlight because of an overhanging tree.
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A theory based on the fact that one bush stands clear in direct sun and bears many flowers.
While inspecting the roses of Sharon, I saw that a small piece of branch had fallen from the tree, hardly more than a twig, but I lifted it off the bushes. My action may not have been the cause, but there was a sudden squawk and a flapping of wings as Ralph shot up onto the garage roof where he stayed for a few minutes until he flew back down.
A very short flight, but it was interesting to see such a large bird take to the air.
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Recent interaction with Ralph reminded me of a chicken that arrived one day on my mother’s doorstep while I was visiting in Barbados. Somewhere in my boxes of memories, I have an actual photograph of Bork but my father’s cartoon will have to suffice.
First thing every day, we went around the garden and as soon as she saw us, Bork shot out from wherever she’d spent the night to follow us. The weather being always warm, the front door was open all day. Mum thought she could prevent Bork from coming in by placing an open umbrella in the doorway, but the chicken just flew over the top, so after that she was simply allowed to join us in the living room.
Dad named her Bork Bork because it was the sound she made.
One afternoon while I lay sunbathing, I was alarmed to see Bork lie beside me with her feet in the air, but when I jumped up to check on her, she went right side up, perfectly fine!
Hence the cartoon.
After I went back to New York, Mum told me that Bork had gone into the little room I always occupied and laid an egg on the bed. Although my parents didn’t care for animals, they liked birds and they became quite fond of Bork, but not long after Hurricane David passed very close to the island and I was told that during the storm Bork fell prey to a dog.
This little story happened 47 years ago.
Bork was just a little white chicken I knew very briefly, but I still think of her.
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I love these stories of all kinds of unexpected connections. My grandson who lived in Australia, opened his front door to find a giant praying mantis waiting to meet him. He came back for a few days, was always on the front porch or at the door when he came outside and then was gone.