The Mystery of the Reincarnated Iowa Peacock

Every family has that one inside joke that refuses to die - the kind of story that makes your sides ache no matter how many times it’s told around the dinner table. In my family, we have two of them. Oddly enough, they both involve unusual birds not typically found in the Hawkeye State, and they both involve my mother.

Beyond the laughter, these tales tell a heartwarming story of the lasting connection a father has with his wife and kids, even after being gone for nearly two decades. On what would have been his 76th birthday, the mystery of a very persistent Iowa peacock has brought those legends full circle in a way that might just make your day.

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The Mystery of the Reincarnated Iowa Peacock

Back when my parents were first dating, they were camping one night when my mom suddenly woke my dad, panic-stricken. "Mike, do you hear that? A woman is calling for help!" Sure enough, far off in the distance, my dad could hear what sounded like a person pleading at the top of her lungs. Except, it wasn't a woman at all - it was an extremely loud and rather annoying peacock.

If you're unfamiliar with the sound, here's an example:

My dad never let her live it down. For the next three and a half decades, that "distress call" became the soundtrack to his favorite way to tease her. And to be fair to my mother, it really does sound like a woman pleading for a chivalrous knight to come to her rescue, right?

The tale of the peacock yelling "HELP!" became a legendary family story. But on Thanksgiving Day 1990, she finally got her revenge.

It was an unusually warm Thanksgiving that year - so warm she decided to go for a bike ride down to the Cedar River to burn off the turkey, mashed potatoes, and her world famous, waldorf salad. But what she saw there was something so bizarre she almost couldn't believe it: a lone pelican, happily fishing for a snack in the Hawkeye State. While pelicans do migrate over Iowa, seeing one actually "post up" in the Cedar River was definitely out of the ordinary.

My mom raced home to tell my sister, my dad, and me. But when she delivered the exciting news, my dad was… skeptical. He burst out laughing, insisting it was just a crane and even bringing up the old peacock story to remind her she wasn't exactly a "bird expert."

That was all the motivation she needed. She grabbed her secret weapon - a massive  1980s Sony camcorder (that was roughly the size of a city block) and hit the trail again. Sure enough, the pelican was still there, completely oblivious that it had become the center of a fierce family debate.

Oblivious Pelican Having a Snack

My mom finally had the upper hand, as this time the bird joke was on him. She showed him the irrefutable video evidence of the pelican in the river, yet he still insisted on calling it a crane! While it might have looked like stubbornness, the reality was simpler: he just loved to tease my mom, and he kept that 'crane' joke running for the rest of his life. To break it down, teasing was his way of showing affection, and we all got a kick out of it whenever he would bring it up.

Nearly 18 years after that fateful Thanksgiving, in June of 2008, my dad passed away from lung cancer. It hit us all incredibly hard because he truly was the heart and soul of our family. Despite the loss, my mom stayed in the home they built together, never once moving from the house where those stories were born.

One day, years after his passing, my mom was startled from a nap by a familiar, piercing noise. She had heard that noise before, years ago... She pulled back the blinds and couldn't believe her eyes. There, strutting his stuff in her Iowa front yard, was a majestic, male peacock.

Before he passed, my father told my mother he would find a way to see her again. She truly believes he has. Every year, once the Iowa weather turns warm, a familiar visitor returns.

This peacock shows up around dusk, nearly every night, to hang out with my mother on her deck. He eventually flies up to her roof before perching himself at the very top of the giant Elm tree in her front yard. From there, he lets out that piercing call my mom has grown so used to hearing over the last forty years.

Only these days, she isn't worried that it's someone calling for help. She knows it’s just my dad, having one more laugh with her.

Happy 76th Birthday, Dad. We all miss you.