Val asked me to try to get a picture of Mr. Pea "in bloom," and I didn't have to wait too long to do it. He stopped by last night and put on quite a show:
If you notice that the photos aren't as sharp as they should be, blame it on the subject: he wouldn't stop dancing. His performance seemed to be entirely for the benefit of my neighbors' pickup truck.
Earlier, I heard Mr. Pea's loud calls and went outside to find him up on the roof. He immediately jumped down to check out the contents of the goody bag in my hand, and we had a quiet little visit in the driveway. All that changed when the neighbors with whom I share a carport started up their truck.
The truck wasn't visible from where we were standing, but as soon as the engine started, the bird went into his full-out courting dance. He fanned his gorgeous tailfeathers, fluffed up his downy white butt-feathers, and pranced and preened, turning around and around directly in the path of the truck. I yelled to get him to move, but he was a man on a mission. The neighbors, forced to stop their truck, got out of it and took photos with their cell phones while they waited for Mr. Pea to finish his act.
I knew he liked that pickup truck, but I didn't realize how much. He spent much of last summer perched on the sides of the truck or resting in the bed of it. I'd pull my car into the carport next to the truck, and up would pop that bright blue head of his. That must have been amusing for the neighbors, although I suspect they may not have been too thrilled about the frequent poop clean-ups he necessitated.
A Louisiana peacock is apparently just like the average Louisiana man: He loves him a pickup truck. It must be something in the water.