To complain, or not to complain? That is the question.
It rained through the night last night, and oh, what a blissful night. Just rain on the roof. No midnight, post-curfew peacock squawks. No piercing four am peacock screams. No honking from the droves of peacocks that have taken siege of the banks along the extremely polluted Hennopsriver.
Have you ever heard the cry of a peacock? It sounds nothing like the bird looks. It is simply hideous. And it never ends. They are supposed to make a lot of noise during courtship, but man, the length of this mating season is matching the pandemic. With the amount of birds around this area, procreation should simply be terminated till further notice.
Peafowl consume insects, snakes, amphibians and rodents, but what happens when these birds themselves become the pest. Surely there must be a way of managing the fowl population. Apparently, peafowl eggs make a good omelette… or we could just rehome the majority of the males as most of the local residents in the suburbs are posturing studs. Couldn’t we?
I’ve always felt complaining is a very unattractive thing…probably because complaints are rarely delivered with a smile. Or possibly because complaints are hardly ever well-received: one complaint opens up a sea of grievances, and all of a sudden, a conversation becomes heavily laden, even ugly. Nobody likes a complainer. A clumsily delivered complaint is immediately associated with criticism; criticism often leads to self-defence, which often leads to conflict. Which I hate. It’s complicated, right?
These last few months have reminded me that I’m happiest in an environment where I’m able to control my surroundings, or at least have some semblance of control. I cannot control this noise, but perhaps if I share my observations, they may fall on the right ears? How do we fix this? I cannot believe that I am the only one struggling with the incessant noise. And if you feel I’m being a bit overdramatic, then I’d just like to add that there has not been even a three-minute intermission since I began writing this.
And while I’m getting things off my chest… this river. How? How did we let things get this bad? The few summer rains we’ve had have helped flush some of the sewage and stench down river, but never mind the floating poo and the putrid smell…the rubbish lining the vegetation along the banks is simply depressing. Clean water is essential to survival – of the creatures who live in the river, and the people who live alongside it, up and downstream from here. How did we let things get this bad? And please don’t answer that, I want a solution. How do we fix it? Can we fix it? Why haven’t we fixed it yet? Shame on us, for letting it get so bad, and accepting the status quo. And shame on me, for thinking, it’s just a total shot in the dark, that we’ll be able to clean this mess up. I so admire the folk all over the world who spend weekends cleaning up after humanity, but after having walked over the Hennopsriver this morning and seen the garbage rushing downstream, I must admit, I do not know how they keep at it.
The incredible thing is that the frogs, the ducks, the dragonflies, the birds, the bees, and yes, even those pesky peafowls are still managing to live it large along the river. How? How have they adapted to the slow demise of what used to be a life-force? Or is their never-ending extended breeding season a symptom of the side-effects of living alongside a toxic polluted water? How soon will our dogs start mewing and our cats barking? When will we start turning blue? When will our cars start corroding? When will our taxes be used for the really important things?
To complain, or not to complain? I say yes, go for it. Just get to the point, and get to it fast. No back story, no unnecessary interpretations or details. No one likes a whiner who just never shuts up – heck, I feel like taking a shotgun to the bellyaching peafowl population, and I’m a peace-loving global citizen. Just tell me what, if anything, is bothering you today? You never know who may be listening.