She pranced on her stately way through the underbrush—bob, bob, bob. Her beady eyes watched the surrounding world intently. Wait! What was THAT?! She bent her glossy neck to see it closer…

He was riding in the tractor—bob, bob, bob—when he saw something moving at the edge of the field. Wait! What was THAT? A huge brown-and-white bird, with hints of blue and green, and an exotic crest on its head. Birds like that don’t live in Kansas, he thought. He sent a picture to his family, but they didn’t know its origin either.

Bob, bob, bob. She pecked the bug she’d found and kept on, with measured, dignified steps. Through a fence, over a rough trail with weeds hanging over it… She could barely see over the weed tops, but so much the better. A woman must be discreet and careful when traveling alone.

She fluttered heavily into an old, broken Chinese elm at the first signs of sunset. Tucking her head under her wing, she closed her eyes. She felt safe, up here among the June canopy of leaves.

A pipe fence is a good place to rest for a bird who does not prefer much physical exertion. The next morning found her there, surveying her surroundings with a piercingly critical eye. Where next? She rather liked the looks of those plants down by the creek, and there perhaps she might find a drink to refresh her…

A movement caught her attention. It was PEOPLE. Four of them. And—could it be? Yes, it was. They were STALKING her.

She was too nervous to squawk. Help! She dropped to the ground in a flurry of feathers, running into the tall grass beneath an evergreen bough. There. Safe, for the moment. Her heart pattered. Now, if those PEOPLE would just keep a respectful DISTANCE and give her some privacy…

She cocked her head, watching them. They were still there. The nerve!

She slipped through the boughs on her spindly legs. She crossed a wheel rut and perambulated up a small rise. Bob, bob, bob.

If a woman who feels herself in danger can keep moving, and keep an escape route open in case of emergency, she might just be all right. Calmly holding her poise, she bobbed on into the brush. She pretended not to see her stalkers.

Then—right beside her was a BOY. He was VERY CLOSE. And worst of all, he appeared to be TAKING A PICTURE. Of HER.

HEELLPP!

She took a frantic, running step and lifted off, panting. She landed on the lowest branch of the friendly old elm tree. Whew! What a close call!

She sat and preened, still denying the presence of the Boy, until at last he moved away. She waited, then peered through the leaves to the ground below. All clear.

She hopped to the ground and straightened her feathers. Now she felt like a lady again: quite ready to face her difficult circumstances.

She chose her route—a well-protected one—and pranced off through the weeds, a stray peahen out to conquer the world.

Bob, bob, bob.

Savanna Unruh