Peacock ocellated, are your spots homogeneous or are they a melange of subtly unique hues?

Your feathers an apt pasquinade of privacy concerns, a rep in need of mascot might you choose.

Do peacocks feel they are Jock Tamson’s bairns, wishing to be loved for their mind more so than their flashy wave?

Necrologies for those you noshed surely say: “Went out on top–in the beak of a most resplendent ave.” ; )

Categories: Melange

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