petitions were sent in. He became a nuisance--but how could he be
muzzled?

And he was so gloriously handsome! Visitors from town would come
expressly to see him. School children would troop into my yard on
Saturday afternoons, "to see the peacock spread his tail," which he
often capriciously refused to do. As soon as they departed, somewhat
disappointed in "my great moral show," Beauty would go to a large window
on the ground floor of the barn and parade up and down, displaying his
beauties for his own gratification. At last he fancied he saw a rival in
this brilliant, irridescent reflection and pecked fiercely at the glass,
breaking several panes.

Utterly selfish, he would keep all dainty bits for himself, leaving the
scraps for his devoted mate, who would wait meekly to eat what he chose
to leave. She made up for this wifely self-abnegation by frequenting the
hen houses. She would watch patiently by the side of a hen on her nest,
and as soon as an egg was deposited, would remove it for her luncheon.
She liked raw eggs, and six were her usual limit.

There is a deal of something closely akin to human nature in barn-yard
fowls. It was irresistibly ludicrous to see the peacock strutting about
in the sunshine, his tail expanded in fullest glory, making a curious
rattle of triumph as he paraded, while my large white Holland turkey
gobbler, who had been molting severely and was almost denuded as to tail
feathers, would attempt to emulate his display, and would follow him
closely, his wattles swelling and reddening with fancied success,
making all this fuss about what had been a fine array, but now was
reduced to five scrubby, ragged, very dirty remnants of feathers. He
fancied himself equally fine, and was therefore equally happy.