Fascinating information, which makes me doubt even more the wisdom of trying to secure a traditional publishing deal. Setting aside any advance that an author may receive, look at those gross sales amounts and try to imagine how much of the loot actually trickles down to the writer.
It mystifies me how book companies continue to survive, unless they're fortunate enough to have a bestseller that makes millions and subsidises the 'also-ran' titles. Getting a best-selling book turned into a movie or television series adds to the profit, with extra merchandising revenue. This must be why the entertainment corporations that own publishers make such vast profits.
Self-publishing is attractive in many ways, not the least because you keep most of any earnings. The drawback is how to promote the book and yourself to attract readers. I think that this is why so many writers chase literary agents and publishers, as they've got the experience, the contacts and the artillery to make some noise!
Peacocks are much nicer birds to admire from a distance than to live around, which I've done several times. Apart from their nosiness and the racket they make, they produce lots of guano, making walking outside an obstacle course of poo! I had a male bird wander into the living room of my farmhouse, when I left the front door open to bring shopping in from the car. He ignored a trail of seed I laid to lure him to freedom. Getting him out again involved a wrestling match, a blanket and several broken pieces of pottery as he tried to fly through the window flapping broad wings around.
They're also amazingly aggressive birds to small creatures, which they hunt in the undergrowth—amphibians, fledglings and rodents. I once saw a cock bird pounding a frog to death on a stony track, stomping it with huge, scaly, taloned claws in the same way as an African Secretary Bird kills snakes.