Day 60: Out toward the end of a county road, there is a tiny cemetery which has on its property line a female holly tree about fifteen feet tall. It has reliably supplied me with three or four twigs for decorating every year for the past six or seven Christmases. I made the pilgrimage yesterday on my way home from grocery shopping, and when I stepped out of the car, this peacock came pelting out of a nearby driveway heading straight toward me. One of my grandmothers had her arm broken by a goose, so I have a healthy respect for large birds and consequently began a retreat to the safety of my car. I didn't need to worry, though, because close on Mr. Peacock's heels came a Border Collie. The peacock angled off its attack trajectory and went on down the road, but the dog then took up station, lying down at my feet. It behaved as if it was waiting for a command, but of course I didn't know the words it had been trained to recognize, so I just said, "Well? Do you want to help? Come on!" It seemed to understand that once I reached the holly tree, I was in no further need of herding. Meanwhile, the peacock disappeared, presumably returning to its rightful home. You never know who or what you may run into at the end of a lonely county road.
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