It was a lazy Sunday afternoon in the city of Cincinnati, and I was just
home from work at the zoo when the bird curator called me with a report he
had just gotten from the local police. A peacock matching the
description of our errant Java Green had just been reported loitering in
the parking lot of a school several blocks from the zoo. He asked me if I
wanted to drive out and make an attempt to bring the bird in. Of course I
couldn't refuse. That was my job. I was a bird keeper.

I made a quick swing by the bird house to pick up some mist nets, then
headed to the address where the peacock had been reported. He was there all
right. The school had an eight-foot chain link fence around the perimeter
of its parking lot, and the Java Green was pacing back and forth along it
nervously as several curious bystanders stood at a distance. Also there was
the policeman who had called in the report. Sizing up the situation I saw
an opportunity to put my plan into action. The fence along which the
peafowl was pacing ran from the parking lot boundary up along the side of
the school building, but with a gap of several feet, creating an alley
between it and the building. It seemed a perfect chance to put the mist net
up at the end of the alley and herd the peacock along the fence and down
the alley into the net. I told the policeman of my plan and asked him to
wait there in the parking lot with the other bystanders, keeping an eye on
the peacock while I put the mist net in place.

Getting the net out of my car, I went around the other side of the building
to the end of the alley, which was out of sight of the peacock, and began
stretching the net across the alley, hooking it onto the fence and the
building as best as I could. I was just beginning to get it into place when
unbeknownst to me, a few of the bystanders began to get a little too
curious and a little too close to the peacock, causing it to slowly
retreat from them down the alley. Suddenly as I was making my final
adjustments to the net, I saw the peacock come strutting down the alley,
clucking and looking about, decidedly nervous and all the more so as it saw
me blocking its route of escape. Worried the bird was about to be spooked
into flight in an attepmt to clear the fence, I hid around the corner of
the building and peaked out slightly, relieved to see the bird reverse
course and slowly make its way back up the alley into the parking lot.

The net in place now, I rushed back around the building to the parking lot
and explained my plan to the police officer. Asking his assistance, I had
him go around the building to the end of the alley where the net was, and
hide behind the corner, ready to jump out and help me subdue the peacock
when he heard a yell. Once I was sure he was in place I started moving
toward the Java Green slowly enough to prompt it to again begin to retreat
up the alley toward the net without being panicked into flight over the
fence, which he was capable of given enough motivation. Things seemed to be
going smoothly. The Java Green was nervous again at being in the confined
space, and looked about at its possibilities of escape over the fence, but
continued to make its way down the alley toward the net. Finally as it
reached the net, the bird halted. While mist nets are nearly invisible at a
distance that's not so when you're standing right in front of one, and the
Java Green was now weighing its options. The time was at hand, and not
giving the Java a chance to decide if it wanted to try and
fly up and out of the alley I rushed at it, waving my arms and yelling like
a banshee. That had the desired effect of sending the panicked peacock
crashing into the mist net, and I yelled for the policeman's help as I
jumped on the flailing bird before it could rip free of the net.

We quickly had the bird subdued and locked away in the back of the police
cruiser while the officer filled out whatever paperwork he had to after
assisting in the capture of a fugative peacock. The Java Green was soon
back at the zoo, and that should have been the end of the story. For some
reason, however, the bird curator must have thought the Java had learned
his lesson, because he not only put the bird back out in the flight cage,
but he didn't clip his wings before doing so. It was therefore a little
heartbreaking to see the Java strutting the grounds of the zoo about a
month later. It was getting into fall now, however, so to our good luck the
bird continued to hang around the zoo premises, probably held there by the
regular feedings it got.

To make a long story short, there were again several failed attempts at
capture. We were smarter for our previous experiences, but so was the Java
Green. At one point the bird was chased into a mist net and almost
apprehended, but then managed to break free of the net before we got to it.
Staff at the Children's Zoo saw the bird there regularly feeding with the
other Blue Peafowl loose on the grounds. We tried to convince the staff to
feed the birds in one of the barns one day so we could lure the Java Green
in, but I think they were a little sympathetic to the Java's bid for enjoy
its freedom.

Finally one day as I was going by the Children's Zoo I saw the Java Green
standing on a low stone wall, taking in the sights as the occasional
public walked by, admiring the peacock's beauty. Of course he knew that
they were no threat, and that it was only the dreaded zookeepers clothed in
khaki who needed to be given a wide berth. I was still at a distance, and
the bird hadn't taken notice of me yet, so I hatched my plan. Putting a
flannel shirt I had with me on over my khaki uniform, I hoped I didn't look
too obviously like a zookeeper. Putting my hands in my pockets and
whistling as nonchalantly as I could, I started to saunter in the general
direction of the Java, trying to keep the peacock in sight out of the
corner of my eye while looking in the opposite direction, as if pouncing on
peacocks was the last thing I had on my mind. Then, as I started to pass
within arms reach of the bird standing at waist height on the wall, I
suddenly turned and grabbed each of its legs in one of my hands. The bird
immediately rocketed off the wall, but I wasn't about to let go, and
plopped the bird to the ground, restraining its wildly flapping winds. A
mother and her child happened to be passing by at the moment and were a
little taken aback, but I reassured them that everything was ok and that,
"We've been after this bird for a long time."

Needless to say we clipped the birds wings this time, and hopefully he
hasn't had an opportunity since to make another bid for freedom.


Gene Sattler
sattler at onyx.si.edu
Washington, D.C.