Don’t Gawp at Me

They seem to be doing well here. The sprawling Ridge is,of course,one major haven,but there are many others too: the JNU campus,Sanjay Van,the large parks scattered all over the capital,the Delhi University grounds,and the big gardens in Lutyens’ Delhi.

Here they live out their lives,mostly unmolested. The breeding season begins as early as February and continues through to August (after which the males drop their trains),though the action really begins at the onset of the monsoons. Now the cocks,in full regalia,will duel,swinging their cloaks dramatically as they confront each other. With raucous shrieks,they’ll fly at one another,but rarely make contact. They’ll land and swing around like the duelists of yore,ready for the next charge. Eventually,the loser will turn and flee and the winner will fly up to a prominent perch and crow. Often,this drama is watched by a moth-coloured harem of peahens,who feign disinterest,even when the male unfurls his train and begins his performance. His eyespots will shimmer hypnotically,emitting a fizzing-hissing sound,his russet wings will pulsate by his side and the poor fool may dance from dawn to dusk (with breaks),while the harem grubs around him. But ah — all is not what it seems. The peahens are interested,but they have a strict hierarchy: Woe-betide any hen who tries to get close to the male if she’s not entitled to the privilege. Only the first lady can do that.

Usually a scrape in the undergrowth suffices for a nest (which is why it is wise to let the undergrowth be,in parks and gardens). Many city peafowl have taken to nesting on terraces and porticos and verandahs of houses because of the destruction of their natural habitat. A peahen recently caused concern by sitting put for three weeks in the backyard of an office in the Home Ministry. She was sitting on eggs,and hopefully is now enjoying protection from the Government of India.

They have an eclectic diet and eat berries,seeds and seedlings,grain — and,of course,all the nasturtiums in your garden — as well as lizards,frogs and famously even snakes.

As for their relationship with Delhizens,they have it down to a nicety. They can be very tolerant of your company as long as you don’t take an active interest in them — or openly gawp and point. Once they’re aware that they’re under scrutiny or being watched,they’ll fold away their trains and sneak off rather in the manner of thieves.

They have the looks,the glamour,but that voice — dear God! That shattering raucous ‘may-yew,may-yew,may-yew! Kaun-kaun-kaun!’ can only belong to something that is completely tone-deaf,even if it may stir up moods of monsoon romances within you.

Until of course,you realise that the silly bird is only reacting to an autorickshaw backfiring on the road and not a great drum-roll of thunder. Actually,peafowl have several calls and with a little practice you can guess what the bird is up to by its call. A peahen,summoning her chicks,or searching for them has an anxious short call,a gentleman planing down from the ramparts of a fort or terrace,will honk like a lorry going downhill without brakes,and when they’re dancing,they call incessantly right through the performance.

But it is wise to listen out for them. They are extremely alert birds and have been used by authorities to guard the grounds surrounding prisons. Here,in north Delhi,when at three o’clock in the morning,all the peacocks in the Nicholson Cemetery next door suddenly give tongue,I listen uneasily. Is someone lurking about with evil on his mind,or is it simply a gaggle of ghosts returning drunkenly after a night out at the ‘Shakin’ Bones’ nightclub?

The cemetery has several peafowl in residence. Every morning,they fly over into the gardens nearby,and mince around haughtily,sometimes even deigning to dance. Scatter peanuts around and they’ll come right up to your feet,provided you keep still. On one occasion,a truly challenged bird stood on the bonnet of my car and only took off when I started the engine! So they’re not particularly bright; macho males will often slam themselves against the glass doors of the house or peck viciously at the sides of gleaming cars,made furious by their own reflections. Young strutting dudes,with no train to speak of will raise their pathetic fans in front of the girls to no effect. I suspect they use this manoeuvre as some kind of threat display,because I’ve seen them run up to feeding spots,and unfurl their shields to drive the other birds away. Last year,we had four tiny chicks following their mom around in the grounds,of which two were taken by cats. The other two are nearly as big as their mother.

While in Delhi some peahens may enjoy government protection,it’s not quite like that everywhere. The chivalrous state of Rajasthan,which is said to have the largest population of peacocks in the country,also reports the maximum number of poaching cases. Nomadic tribes hunt the bird for meat (once a delicacy for the Maharajas) and in the Bundi region,some 300 birds are killed annually. Forty-one birds were reported killed in the last month alone. Their fabulous plumage is another temptation. Some may argue that the feathers are collected after they’ve been dropped,but when you see the perfectly symmetrical peacock “fans” being hawked at traffic intersections,you can only wonder. And it’s all too easy to kill them by using poisonous grain.

It’s difficult to imagine how a bird so extravagantly clad has managed to survive so far. That enormous train can only be an impediment to escaping from a predator. And those colours! But watch a peacock on the Ridge or in a park; huge,flamboyant and in-your-face one moment — then gone the next as it melts into the foliage and vanishes without a sound like a magician’s trick,and you’ll understand how.