When I was young, we kept a weekend sailboat out in the boonies of NC, on a creek off of the Pamlico River.
The people down the road from the dock had peacocks and would often let us collect a few feathers to take home.
I remember the call they made at night, very eerie, like a baby crying. It would wake me up sometimes. It would certainly take a while to get used to hearing that every night.
They were beautiful, though. (And sometimes very funny with their little peacock personalities)
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