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Journalism of Courage
Way back in 1859, Charles Darwin wrote: ‘The sight of a feather in a peacock’s tail… makes me sick!’ If he had made that statement today, there would be calls for his arrest and a FIR lodged against him for upsetting our sensitive sentiments. But what had upset Darwin so much about the peacock’s magnificent tail, or rather train, in the first place?
Simply, it head-butted directly against his theory of natural selection, or survival of the fittest. Surely no bird dragging that massive if magnificent tapestry behind him could escape predators easily. Ergo, birds with smaller tails ought to be the survivors and reproduce, not these ostentatious dudes. But it was these glamorous guys that got the girls and there was obvious competition between the dudes as to who had the more elaborate train. That is what the hens were looking out for. So poor Darwin had to come up with another theory to accommodate this: the theory of sexual selection where the female decided on what was breathtaking and handsome and selected her mate accordingly. Hence, the race for the most elaborate tail.
Did the peahens have some diabolical reasoning behind this? Scientists vehemently reject the notion that she could recognise and appreciate its beauty for its own sake – like the way we do – that would be blasphemous anthropomorphism. Or had she cunningly figured out that any dude sporting such an encumbrance and managing to survive – and dance for her – had to be in tip-top physical shape, with just the quality of genes she wanted for her chicks? He was obviously strong and healthy, had managed to escape from pouncing, slavering tigers and leopards, and would surely live to a ripe old age and have plenty of chicks. (Alas, she would be deluding herself if she thought they would all be hers – he would go happily with any peahen).
To convince themselves that the hens were indeed looking for the best trains in the business, scientists began experimenting. They cut the length of the tail feathers, they covered the beautiful eyespots with stickers and stood back to see what happened. While one set of experiments showed that yes indeed, the girls rejected the dudes with the eyespot stickers, indicating that they did play a role in her selection of a mate, a Japanese study showed that the number of eyespots didn’t really make a difference. Now it is believed that the number of eyespots do count – to a certain extent. If too many are covered or too many tail feathers removed, the hen might reject the poor hapless dude believing he was not fit and healthy enough for her.
Another discovery was that when the dude was at some distance from her and unfurled his train to begin his dance, she focused on the top section of the fan and the eyespots, usually because his bottom half was hidden from sight. Which is why he shivered and quivered his fan, making the feathers rattle and catching her attention. As he drew closer, she focused on his lower part and duly he turned his back on her and waggled his russet bottom at her, something she obviously found attractive and, perhaps, seductive.
Other scientists began wondering whether the enormous train really was an encumbrance during sudden escape manoeuvres. They put five peacocks in a large aviary, set up high-speed 3D video cameras around them and then tapped a stick to startle them off their perch, and filmed and timed their blustering take-offs. They repeated the experiment after removing the tail feathers (as happens when peacocks moult after the rains) and found there was no ‘statistically significant’ difference in the timings. So tailless, they took off as quickly as before.
But yes, the scientists did accept that the long train could still be an encumbrance in that it could snag in thorny foliage and hamper escape manoeuvres. And judging by the photograph of the peacock in the razor wire coil, they don’t seem to have the brains to avoid getting into such situations – though fortunately this bird did back out safely. I do think that the train has camouflage – and hence survival – value. It is amazing how quickly a peacock can vanish in the forest, melting away into the foliage in the blink of an eye.
Dudes may even duel: flying screaming towards one another (they are armed with a spur on their legs) – but more often than not, are careful not to engage in actual physical combat. One will eventually be chased away.
Here in the complex where I live, there are currently two magnificent males who have begun showing off from the terraces, heads held high, and screaming blue murder at each other! They live in the cemetery next door and eventually fly down to the large central lawn where they are slyly checked out by a group of peahens as they go walkabout. The dancing has not begun just yet. One year, a peacock in the cemetery danced virtually non-stop from 9am to 7pm and deservedly got his girl – who had feigned indifference all day, while ensuring no other hens glad-eyed him.
It takes the dudes about four years to be fully fitted out in their resplendent finery. But even pre-teen dudes are not averse to showing off. Just recently, one youngster suddenly unfurled his virtually non-existent fan in front of a peahen. Thoroughly unimpressed she stalked off. But a cat prowling nearby got the fright of its life and fled under a car. Survival value? Yes! Darwin would be happy!
