In reference to Mr. Bert Etling’s article in the June 13 Cambrian, wherein he once again gave full-page space to a certain delinquent bird: Enough, already! From the looks of the photo of the handsome Randy Linn (the peacock), it appears that now he is quite taken with the notoriety he has built with his antics, moving from neighborhood to neighborhood (but always, you’ll note, sticking to the “’hoods” with the welcome mat out).
But wait a minute here — Randy was given to us more than 20 years ago by our nice friends, Linda and Bud Black, who raised these comely birds at their ranch, ’way up San Simeon Creek Road. We parented and supported and encouraged and spoiled Randy through many years, during which he thrived and basked in the constant attention from the many visitors to Linn’s Fruit Bin on Santa Rosa Creek Road.
He lived like a feathered king out there and, in fact, fathered so many young that at one point we gave away everybody but Randy, because their numbers and their production and destruction reached an untenable point.
After that, Randy lived the life of a monk, lots of solitude, but lots of visitors handing him treats and admiring his plumage, size and carriage. He still had plenty of time for philosophizing, cogitating (perhaps planning, who knows?).
One day, an errant peacock showed up, wanting to horn in on Randy’s Land O’Plenty. After a few weeks of scuffling, battling and chasing one another over supremacy, they reached an agreement as to who would sleep at the highest point in the giant sycamore tree that stands over the Linn’s Farmstore.
Randy emerged victorious, once again master of all in his visage; at the top of the sycamore of life. And so, Randy and his sidekick, Rudy, once they had had their run-ins, settled into a life of cooperation and brotherly love, co-guard birds for Linn’s Fruit Bin.
For years it went smoothly until Rudy ran into a bobcat one morning as he cruised over our bridge over Santa Rosa Creek. It was one of those moments that change the whole course of your life: let down your guard for one moment and you are someone else’s meal. I found the pile of beautiful feathers and knew exactly what had occurred — not a morsel left.
It would seem that Randy knew, too, and he decided that this was an opportune moment to change his surroundings. He packed his things, shook the dust from his talons, and set out to find what was beyond the horizon he’s known for his whole life. But who knows where the story ends now?
Randy now has different cares, different days. People bring him gourmet birdseed and other treats. Others swoon over his beauty, his size, his cool. And he knows this gig, let me tell you.
For years he worked the pie-eating crowds at Linn’s; now a new group fawns over Randy, including the peacockrazzi Mr. Etling. Randy is building a portfolio; he knows the ropes, now. Don’t get too involved too deeply — he’ll break your heart when he leaves you, too, for greener pastures — provided, that is, he doesn’t drop his guard for a moment when someone thirsts for him in a different way.
Just remember, he is Ramblin’ Randy Linn, and he rambles on!