Plumage on the streets of Souris

Hey there, time traveller!
This article was published 19/06/2021 (1807 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

On our relentless exploratory tour of Manitoba, I assured my road-weary wife, Margie by telling her “flat tires are very common, not just for us.” Hiking through the bush I said, “don’t worry — the tick season is over in two weeks.” I tried to stay positive, I really did. “There’s good luck driving backwards across a bridge,” I explained while carefully backing up in the snow. Once on the Perimeter Highway I announced, “It’s a good sign when a grasshopper hops into the car and lands on your neck.”

She finally replied, “Right. How good?”

It turns out real good, because only days later a friend, who is a teacher from Souris, told me how peacocks proudly parade around that lovely town southwest of Brandon. The Souris Swinging Bridge is a sight to see and between that, the Rock Shop, and the great food aside, I heard the call and dotted the map. Although Margie mentioned wanting to rest at home, she did agree to join me on yet another adventure. It was a proud moment.

Despite its French name, Tobans unfortunately pronounce that wonderful place “Sewer-is.” It is much prettier sounding in French. It’s on the Souris River. This river changes its name to the Mouse River at the U.S. border. Maybe it’s running from the upstream weir? The sign calls it The Drowning Machine — if that doesn’t keep you up at night, the local peacocks will.

They’ve been around for decades, but became displaced from the town’s bird sanctuary during the devastating 2011 flood. The mischevious muster of peacocks discovered joyous freedom in the streets, lanes, and yards of Souris. And the roofs, fences and porches. And living rooms, bathtubs and the occasional bed. Kidding. Sort of. From then on, Souris became even prouder.

Today, 24 peacocks, including nine long-tailed males, proudly parade through town. They are especially common around The Plum, (the visitor centre), and the Hillcrest Museum. And if you hear a car horn honk, you know where a peacock is jaywalking. They numbered 25, but one was tragically struck down last month.

Beginning each November, the birds are corralled, one or two at a time, thanks to smartly placed traps. One peacock did evade capture, yet thrived outside through winter. Yes, a Manitoba winter. The rest make their winter home in a building in Victoria Park, thanks to straw bales, sunflower seeds, and grain spillage donated from an elevator.

This endearing saga is mostly due to longtime volunteer Jim Ludlam, an always smiling, community boosting hero. Retired from local dairy and fertilizer operations, Ludlam refuses to admit the hours he commits. A resident says, “He’d never tell you.” Locals revere him. He makes the charming town of Souris even better and he works tirelessly to help enrich the community’s shared experience.

Local children also appear as enamored by the birds as us visitors. They compare their photos, and a day care centre held a fundraiser to buy sunflower seeds. Peacock feathers and their unique colours are becoming part of the Souris brand. And tourists are now hearing about this delightful Manitoba attraction.

Ludlam insists, “Peacocks actually like humans.” But the feeling is not always mutual.

Most residents in this growing town of more than 1,870 fully accept the presence of the birds and rightly defend them. Some of the birds even have names. Kathleen at Lagasse’s Studio of Fine Art befriended a large male in her doorway. She calls him King. Over at Sowden Street yards, there’s Petie.

If I was a peacock, with those outrageous feathers and Hollywood good looks all capped off with the helmet of a majestic Spartan soldier, I’d maybe not risk my resplendent reputation by squawking EE-AWW. That’s the lingering complaint of residents. Especially when the squawks resound nightly. Over and over again…EE- AWW.

Their robust droppings also add complexity to town sidewalks. Reconstruction on Main Street in 2019 attracted media attention after an oblivious, or perhaps mischievous, peacock proudly paraded through wet cement.

There are also claims to Manitoba Public Insurance. A fellow coming out of the Tak Lee Cafe, patting his belly after enjoying some chicken balls, reported that a peacock saw his own reflection in the shiny door of a friends truck, and it turns out old terrotorial Timmy (that’s his name now) didn’t like who he saw, so he pecked the reflection of himself to the tune of about $6,000 in damages.

It seems their own reflections regularly trigger the birds, the windows of stores, business, and even homes can set the creatures off. Folks report needing to cover low windows with cardboard or paper.

The peacocks are protected though. One nice lady told me they’d get in more trouble for shooting at a peacock than at a human. Her husband added, “My hose takes care of ‘em.”

Just a sprinkle.

Margie and I followed a showy male into a yard. Off a fence, a hen jumped in with another male at her side. The first male shook his feathers, igniting a loud humming. He trotted backwards, then he swooped in circles before the hen. And, bingo — he was on her. Then he just gazed around like nothing happened.

Margie wasn’t impressed. “Canada Geese, I like. They find a mate, have little ones, they stick together. Peacocks, jeesh. She comes with one guy, sees another one, and she’s making out with him now — I don’t like peacocks.”

We stayed at the impressive Souris Hotel. The bathroom separates two beds. Despite my snoring Margie got a good sleep. Apparently I sound a lot like a chainsaw. At home, Margie leaves for another room shortly after midnight. The dog follows her an hour or two later.

By 3 a.m. Margie was sleeping soundly, especially impressive given that despite the sweltering 32 C heat, I opened the window in anticipation of the big show.

Finally, at 5 a.m., there was action! Ten peacocks paraded in and pecked at popcorn across the street at the credit union. Then they converged between the Avalon Theatre and the Whistling Donkey pub.

“Marg, wake up!” I whispered loudly, and shook the bed gently. “Peacocks, peacocks!”

In fairness it was an amazing show and I’m certain she enjoyed it.

That’s why I’m dedicating this column to Margie. She may not approve of those fickle, two-timing peacocks — but she couldn’t take her eyes off them.

gordmackintosh@hotmail.com