Today's Day 858: 5 Minute Freewrite: Tuesday - Prompt: peacock provided by @mariannewest brings back childhood memories of these damned birds. The sound of the call would echo through our area and the damned birds were half a mile away. They would even over shadow the hillside of exotic birds like parrots, macaws, cockatoos and cockatiels that I grew up next door to.
The never ending scratching. What more could be worse than trying to sleep with the noise, the racket, the cacophony of toe nails scratching against the metal roof over head. Two years is just far too long to allow the disturbance to continue. The straw that broke his back was the sudden hole that appeared after an extended scratching session by the asshole birds. It would be one thing if it was only during the day time but the horrible things had taken to night time orgies. Not content to ruin the daytime with their incessant screeching and echoing calls they apparently felt safe enough on the roof to go into full randy breeding season.
The hole in the metal roof was a bit of a surprise but given the amount of time the birds had been scratching around it was not a complete surprise. “At least I don’t have a shingle roof” he thought as he gathered his shotgun and shells. He searched through the boxes for the smallest shot he had and with his short barrel on the shotgun he was hoping for the widest spray pattern possible.
-End of 5 minutes-
The morning light had begun to creep into the sky and the birds were still going at full force across the metal roof. He loaded his shotgun full of shells and then snuck out the side door. He needed to be close enough to hit them but he needed to be far enough away to hit most of them in one or 2 shots. The birds had become more trusting of him over the past two years so they were not likely to frighten and bolt. The upper part of the roof was an a-frame and steep while the porch was a lower angle.
Looking around him he found the wooden single ladder leaning against the footing of the house and he slowly raised it up and leaned it against the side of the porch roof. Shotgun in hand he climbed the ladder as quietly as possible. His head peaking over the edge of the roof he surveyed the amassed birds and tried to get a count.
“Looks like 15” he thought, “but it might be more. I’ll need 2 shots.”
He hunched down on the ladder and prepared himself for the shots. He slowly stood on the ladder rungs, leaned himself against the edge of the roof, took careful aim and fired. The fine bird shot exited the barrel and instantly spread into a wide fan of flying metal dots. He watched as the front flank of birds were hit, fell, and began to flop about the roof. The other birds startled by the gun shot began to take off and scatter and that was when the second shot exploded from the barrel and spread metal again across the roof.
The echos of the gunshots faded and the only sound left was the thumping of the peacock bodies as they flopped around the metal roof in the throws of death. Brightly colored feathers were strewn across the defaced metal roofing, mixing with the bird shit and blood. He watched the birds from the ladder as they all stopped moving, trying to count the heaps of feathers in hopes he got them all.
The sun just peaked over the hills to the east and touched the peak of the roof, spreading golden light down until it lit the gory screen of silent peacock bodies. He smiled and large and relieved smile, climbed down the ladder and walked back into the house. The silence was palpable and as he stood there absorbing it he felt himself begin to fall towards sleep. The shotgun placed against the wall, he crawled into his bed and with the sun shining bright outside fell into the most peaceful sleep he had experienced since the birds arrived.