I’m feeling simultaneously both overwhelmed by the news/underwhelmed by the words of our political masters.

So I’m going to eschew any discussion of Coronavirus, or whether or not the Chinese have invaded part of Indian Ladakh, and focus instead on the beauty that I get to witness everyday.

Namely peacocks.

They are all over the Delhi park where I exercise twice a day, and they are in flamboyant form these days, calling and dancing and generally strutting their stuff.

Like so:

This gorgeous fella is my latest boyfriend.

We meet twice a day, always in this same place, a clearing just before a fork in the track. I know it’s him because of his broken, trailing feather.

He dances most mornings.

In return, I feature him on my Instagram feed. (You can see it here in the blog, over to the right. And a follow would be swell.)

He is often hanging round in the evenings too, on what I presume is “his” tree, the one where he will spend the night:

In times of deep despair about what is happening to this great country – the virus and the politics, about which I am absolutely not going to talk today – I find gazing admiringly at the national bird is a better use of my time than fretting over all the things I cannot control.

The park where I exercise twice a day is full of peacocks.

This morning I saw a kingfisher, its turquoise plumage dazzling against a stormy-looking sky.

Yesterday morning I saw a White Eared Bulbul for the first time, and jolly fine-looking he was too.

Yesterday evening we saw a hare – only my 2nd sighting, in all the years I have been running there.

The previous evening we spotted a jackal.

So, yes, all in all, the simple gorgeousness of the birds and wild animals is balm to the soul, and takes my mind off all the other stuff.

I guess it’s a question of seizing the moment…

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