It was the biggest news in our neighborhood since several septic tanks in our cul-de-sac backed up and the sewage cascaded into Karen’s yard.
The story began when I went on a jog around the neighborhood. As I passed a row of homes, Brenda stood on the side of a neighbor’s house, peering into the backyard. She motioned me to join her in this clandestine observation.
We both peeked around the corner and there was Kevin. I was surprised to see Kevin. You don’t see Kevin in your neighborhood very often. Probably never. Kevin, you see, is a peacock.
Kevin seemed not to notice us, but he was certainly aware of himself as he preened in the glass sliding doors, either proud of his own plumage or happy to see a fellow peacock in Fishers, where such birds are not exactly indigenous. I learned his name was Kevin because I discovered he has his own Facebook page — Where’s Kevin?. It turns out that there are also Kevins in several other cities. If you see a loose peacock, it’s a Kevin.
When I told my wife Mary Ellen, she was very surprised. Why? Because I am not a heavy drinker, and I am drug-free except for Lipitor. But the photo I took did not lie. Kevin the Peacock was proudly parading around our neighborhood.
I alerted our neighbor Bob, the unofficial guru on all things animal-related in our adjacent valley. His frequent hikes keep our neighborhood updated on the owls, deer, turtles and coyotes that inhabit the area. Bob has seen it all, but never a Kevin.
Eric tried to entice the bird with a scattering of blueberries at his feet. I’m unsure what he would have done if the bird had approached him. Eric probably didn’t know, either. Bob shadowed Kevin from the street as the bird paraded from backyard to backyard. Bob wanted to prevent Kevin from wandering into a busy traffic area.
Kevin ended up on our back patio. Neighbors showed Mary Ellen photos they had taken. My wife was just a floor above when all this happened.
“How could I have missed all the excitement?” my wife asked when she saw everyone’s iPhone pics.
The explanation was simple: She was washing her hair. The shower was on, then the dryer buzzed along, and she was binging on old episodes of “Grace and Frankie” on her iPad. If six grown men had encountered a hippo on the floor below, she would have missed that, too.
Where did Kevin come from? Nobody knows. Where will he be next? Same answer.
Kevin’s Facebook page has about 5,000 followers, including a map of where he was last seen. I am sure he is the talk of everywhere he visits. He brought joy to all who observed him in our little neck of the woods.
Kevin roams freely, although he does have an affinity for one couple’s home, which he often returns to, only to wander off again. If you are fortunate ever to see Kevin, enjoy his majesty and splendor and remember that expression, “Free as a bird.”
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Editor’s Note: If you see Kevin, do not call the police. Just enjoy the majesty of the moment.
