What do we know about these majestic icons of color? We grew up with the NBC peacock ushering in a new era of brilliance to our dull black and white TV viewing lives. They were the "wildfowl" we could only witness at the zoo or see on exotic estates in the movies. Why do we seek out this beautiful fowl whose initial duty for man was employing its inherent ability to warn of danger? Are they worthy of the special treatment we give them to be a productive and/or decorative member of our back yard poultry community?

Memories of the Peacock Man

My early memories of peacocks goes back to the 1960's, and evolve around my friend Dave Gillmeister's father. Mr. Gillmeister kept two trios of peacocks, one Indian blue and one white. I would always look with great anticipation to see the males fanning for attention during our social visits. I would strain my neck for just a peek of them while driving by Mr. Gillmeister's farm to parts unknown. Mr. G was the "peacock man," known far and wide for his display. His farmette was an aviary of ornamental pheasants, silkies, fantail pigeons, and a pair of very intimidating Canada geese. It was a virtual candy store to a young boy fascinated with ornamental birds.

Tom's peacocks are pretty enough to give his flower beds some competition.

Mr. G's son Dave and I grew up together as the 4-H poultry junior leaders of Niagara County in New York. We were part of the New York State 4-H poultry judging team. This participation took us on unforgettable trips sponsored by our mutual poultry mentor Professor Edward Schano of Cornell University. Dave and I showed poultry until we went off to college and we each still have poultry to this day.

I have never lived more than five miles from those original peacocks that I had admired as a boy. It took me until my mid forties to establish my own farmette. With the memories of Mr. G and those first peacocks still so dear to me I was determined to be a "peacock man" in my own right.

My little farm is only 40 acres but has more charm than any modern agricultural complex. My house and barn are from the 1800's with a creek running through and a charming cottage-like coop in the door yard, with full roadside view. This was to be my peacock display. I added on an outside display about 10'x15' and I was ready to try my shot at these wild exotic fowl.

Fullfilling My Own Dream

I don't recall how I was able to acquire those first white peacocks for my little farm called Dream Acres. I do, however, remember quite vividly that they were from the very same bloodline as those I had seen as a boy, a time long ago but a place not so far away. It struck me as very special that I could carry on a tradition for my peacock mentor, a display of beauty admired by all but only kept by a few.

It took no time at all for these unique birds with their veil of lace feathers to become the talk of the area. People would honk as they drove by and on occasion, stop to ask permission to take a picture. I had fulfilled a dream, to be a "peacock man" in my own right. It felt good. It felt right.

Raising Peacocks Was Surprisingly Easy

When it came to raising these birds it was considerably easier than I had expected. I had seen naturally raised peacocks at the game farm where I previously worked. The adults do well on turkey grower and some scratch (especially cracked corn in the cold months) in their feed ration. Greens from the grocer are always helpful during the confined months (make sure you remove those twist ties). Be careful feeding any scraps, green or otherwise, when it is warm, for peas are very susceptible to botulism. Cold weather only seems to bother the Java Green peacock. However, never give the birds too small or too round a perch for the cold months. If you use a flat perch like a 2x4 they will tend to sit on their feet when it is very cold and thereby avoid frost bite. Letting your peacocks run free has a regal feeling, but remember that they are a "wild" bird and once startled they may take flight and become lost only a short distance away.

The Pied Peacock has white feathers. Peacocks do not get a full tail until they are three years old.

There are, as with other backyard poultry, three basic ways to incubate peacocks; artificial (incubator) foster (banty hen) and natural (mama peacock herself). The hens are good setters and mothers if you confine them and give them the chance, However, multiple hens can make this a problem. If you are lucky and have the space, individual hens will choose an individual nest and not interfere with another hen's clutch. I use a nest box set up similar to the one I use for turkeys; a large open box or half barrel with just a hint of cover. If two hens insist on setting on the same nest it is best to leave the job to one hen, for any discontent usually ends up with an expensive omelet. You may want to relocate or otherwise section off the working mother for those 28 days. It is best to isolate the new brood while they are hatching anyway. After about two or three weeks when mom and the kids have gotten to know each other and the medicated wild game or turkey starter has become their main meal, (if your entire pen is baby escape proof) you may release them with the flock. You need to have a watchful eye at this time of course, for all aunt peahens are not "aunty," and all father peacocks are not "fatherly," but I have seldom had an aggression problem with a family unit with enough space. Over the years this became my chosen plan of propagation.

Peacocks Are Not Always a Popular Neighbor

The gravestone of Mr. Gillmeister, the original "Peacock Man." His epitaph reads, "He taught us to love and respect wildlife."

With all his beauty and regal elegance the peacock is not always a popular resident in the neighborhood. He does have a cry that is romance to some and an annoyance to others, that same cry that attracted him to man hundreds of years ago. I have been fortunate with my 150-year-old farm and its natural boundaries. I have heard no complaints about my operatic birds from my neighborhood.

Rest In Peace

I did, however, hear from the widow of my peacock mentor, who heard the birds' mournful cries one sunny afternoon while visiting the grave of her husband. You see, although I new my dear mentor had passed away, I had not realized that Mr. G was buried in the cemetery that was across the road from my property. It all seemed very clear to me then why it wasn't until I acquired this particular farm that I was able to establish my own peacocks. The heritage of my angelic white peacocks were of the ones I saw as a boy...from Mr. G...the "Peacock Man."