Pavo cristatus, I have only seen you behind bars, chained in confinement when you should be roaming around some tropical paradise. I could spend an eon gazing at your alluring fan and admiring the thousands of eyes you possess. The longing desire to see you in your natural habitat eats at my soul.Behind these bars I will never know your identity as a kingpin of the birds, strutting around like you own the land you walk on.
It has been said that peacocks chase after humans and other creatures when felt threatened. They are known for their feathers that clearly isolate them from the rest of the bird population. Luminous blues and greens dominate the wave of color spanning their bodies. The male additionally uses his colors to lure females into his grasp in order to mate. The juxtaposing use of their fan is an oxymoron in itself, for it is involved in love and war. When watching the peacock held inside this cage I feel as if he has anger for never knowing a life outside of these barriers. He now puts his fan down and lets it drag on the ground. Seeing him without his massive bravado draped behind his head makes me see the species in an entirely different manner. He is like an emperor who has taken off his crown and become one of the commoners.  However, I cannot ignore the sheer fact that this grandiose fan is being touched by the worn ground. The same Earth that is covered in wet mud, and thousands of disgusting insects that make a home on his fan detracting from his beauty. I mean no offense to you peacock, but it would be spectacular if your feathers were open all the time. If this were true, the look of defeat would never be strapped to such a creature.
An ignorant being comes up to the bars and rattles them. He keeps calm as he understands that the inferior will always try to rattle those above them. However, the vibrations become rapid and consistent. The boy continues to mock the peacock’s closed quarters and his limited freedom. Once the home of the peacock is abused, he gets infuriated. The feathers come up and the composure of this creature turns to beast as he starts aggressively hissing. This is not an aspect that I admire. If he cannot control himself after one cruel person agitates him, how does he even survive? Even the leader of the Sahara, the lion, does not let himself fill with rage unless completely necessary.
Similarly, his mating habits are also exhibited in this action. He turns from good to evil in a flash, analogous to his changing feelings for a mate. Not only will the peacock pounce on a female at his convenience, but he will also mate with as many women as he desires. The misogynistic views are prominently conveyed in this creature without a shadow of remorse. As I look at the female in the corner, she is overshadowed by the male’s beauty. It is quite sad to compare the two because the male has the better end of the stick. She is a dark brown color, resembling dirt and the Earth in which she inhabits. The dominant traits are handed to the male along with the admiration that comes with it, if I did not get a chance to mention the female, would you even realize.  If only I were a peacock, I would be an adversary to the male and clearly defy the traits he acquires. However, in this place and time the female will continue to be left in the shadows until the day when her beauty on the inside is brave enough to thwart the stigma done onto her.
As I leave on this sunny Tuesday morning, the guilt of being able to come and go as I please mocks the master of the birds who will never step foot out of his cage. These peacocks might not even realize I have been sitting here for hours, or maybe they do. While standing up to leave, the female lifts her head off the ground like my dog when I walk to get a treat. She knows that I was here. I may have gazed at the male’s beauty for some time, but the female is the one who must keep up with all the chaos. As I start walking back to real life, the caw of her voice resonates inside of me as if begging don’t go.