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I enjoyed doing lecture tours. One day, Estate Safari asked me to be the guest lecturer for one of Antigua's flora and fauna history/lecture tours. A really pleasant and quiet child accompanied a family-one of the participants. I was very impressed with the way his older sister took care of him. I had no idea he was autistic. Since he was so quiet, I asked his older sister if they would like to accompany me to apologize to a peacock. The little boy's eyes gleamed.

The week prior, I went to see a friend who built a nature park as a labour of love. On it, he has about 1 dozen peacocks and peahens. Sam is the head honcho. I learned peacock protocol quickly. Since my friend built his private botanical garden and animal theme park, Sam, by autocratic decree and beneficiary of the avian mating system, became head of the ostentation. I call him Uncle Sam.

To begin with, on my first visit I neither knew Sam nor the size of his pride. Since I had no way of knowing if my friend was on his farm, I decided to sit on a park bench to munch on a bunch of bananas I bought. As soon as I peeled the first one, I heard a clucking sound behind me. I turned around and came face to face with a curtain of colour and the most majestic bird I had ever seen. This classy peahen strutted cautiously forward, looked at me and introduced herself in real "Turkish" or Turkey language. She was so regal and poised that I decided to ask her if she wanted some of my fruit. As soon as I broke it and gave her, she gobbled it up so quickly that I gave her another piece.

What happened next blew my mind. She did the most glorious feathered ballet dance. While I enjoying the private show, I heard another clucking sound. Another peahen appeared. I offered another piece of my lunch, and sure enough she did the most exquisite ballet routine. Just as the last bird emerged, I realized I had no more bananas. So, that one got left out.

Things came to a sudden halt when Uncle Sam appeared. He seemed unusually upset. Whatever he said, the entire peacock entourage turned around and left. My friend, an expert in bird protocol, explained to me that I embarrassed Sam. When I got a call one week later asking if I would do a guided ecological tour for a family that included two small children, I readily agreed.

As soon as I met the family of five I asked "How would you all like to accompany me to a private zoo to apologize to a peacock?" The two children roared openly. "That sounds neat." All during the tour, even though they were mesmerized by the beautiful flora and fauna, the big pelicans, and the roaming goats, the only thing at the back of the children's minds, was---and they kept asking me--- "When are you going to apologize to the peacock?

I stopped by a roadside vendor and bought a bunch of tiny bananas called "finger rows." As we drove up the winding path past meandering frangipanis and erect bougainvilleas, I heard a familiar gobble. Sam came and poked his head through a hole in the fence. I stretched out a peeled banana and said "Sam I am sorry." The two children were obviously mesmerized by the sheer size and beauty of a bird whose plume stretched over 60 inches. He took the banana and left.

Just then we saw curious beaks and probing eyes popping through tropical flowers and colourful bushes on the hillside-all belonging to his pride. It then dawned on me that the last time I was here I left out one of the females. I miscalculated the size of his pride. Quickly I took pieces of bananas and threw one each in front of all visible pairs of eyes. Proudly Uncle Sam gave an acknowledging gobble. One by one oceans of rainbows emerged from the bushes as they edged forward, nibbling the succulent bananas. Then it happened: Uncle Sam took the lead and did the most colourful ballet. The others followed suit. The children flipped. They gushed.

The next day I got the most wonderful note in a fat envelope. Thanks for being so special to our autistic child. You helped him to celebrate an extra special birthday. The envelope was very fat. The thank you was not only in words, but kind deeds as well. It is amazing how rewarding it is when we swallow our pride and say the simple words: "I am sorry"---even to a peacock.

Basil Hill, Vice President of the Antigua Chapter of U.N.I.A, news producer and radio host, is the author of

Suggested readings: "The Golden Fleece Found by Basil Hill -