Colour travels badly in company
A peacock cichlid in full colour is a fish built around rank, and rank is negotiated with teeth. Males that coexist in a rock-filled tank by holding separate claims will, in a single transport bag, hold nothing back, and the journey's jolting reads to them as a rival's challenge at close quarters. Pack every peacock individually, males without exception and females too on anything longer than the shortest hop, each in a strong container with its own tank water.
Choose rigidity where you can. A peacock is muscular and panics in bursts, and a fish that size can split a thin bag against a car floor or tear it on its own fin rays. A dark, lidded tub inside a padded, insulated box keeps the fish calm, the water stable, and the journey private, which for a display animal is most of what safety means.
Catch the fish, not the whole hierarchy
If several peacocks are moving, decide the order before the net gets wet: the most battered or lowest-ranking fish come out first, while the tank still offers them cover, and the dominant male last, since he is the one whose capture will stir the rest. Lower the water as dismantling proceeds and guide each fish into a submerged container rather than hoisting it in a net through open air.
Withhold food ahead of the move so transport water stays cleaner, and keep every container labelled with which fish is inside. Peacocks that look alike at a glance differ in the details that matter at release, and arriving with labelled containers turns a chaotic restocking into a planned one.
Rockwork first, fish second
Build the destination's rock structure before any fish is released, with more caves and sight breaks than the old tank had if the group is being reintroduced together. Equalise each container's temperature against the new tank, mix water in gradually, and release fish in reverse order of rank where you can: lower-ranking fish first, given an hour to find cover, and the dominant male last into a tank that no longer looks like an empty throne room.
Dim the lights for the first evening and skip the welcoming feed. Peacocks released into established rockwork with full stomachs spend their first night contesting caves at maximum energy; hungry, dimmed fish explore, choose, and settle at half the cost in torn fins.
The first week decides the new order
Watch the hierarchy, not just the water, across the first days. Brief chases that end at a cave mouth are negotiation; a fish that cannot feed, hides at the surface behind equipment, or shows daily fresh damage is losing more than rank and needs a divider, a rearranged rock pile that resets all claims at once, or a separate tank. Test the water daily as well, because a disturbed filter serving large, stressed cichlids can let waste climb unnoticed behind the drama.
Feed in several spots once feeding resumes, so access to food is not itself a prize the dominant male can guard.
Rank, injuries, and which fish lived peacefully beside which are the records that make restocking humane rather than hopeful, and KinsLe keeps them in its Pet Passport so the peacock cichlid's social history survives the move along with its water values.