A Turkey memory in honor of Thanksgiving

As I have mentioned in many previous posts, I am not really an animal person. I am nice to other people's pets and all, but for the most part, an animal lover I am not, especially those of the wild persuasion. I don't wish animals ill will, mind you, but I'm not gonna run out and join PETA or anything. And I am a carnivore. But I hate the idea of hunting- yeah I know- that makes no sense- I am a dichotomy! I even went hunting. I've talked about hunting again.

You know of my fear of spiders and other bugs (and I was thinking I could re-tell the story about the bunny I tried to save and the bugs with pinchers on its butt that tried to kill me when I lived in the frat house) which I don't consider animals. I just feel the need to point out I HATE, LOATHE and FEAR bugs, but I'm just... indifferent, if you will, about animals; I'm just not a lover of animals. Turkeys are no exception. I love turkey with dressing on my plate. Nowhere else. So imagine my surprise when....

I lived in the Wild West for three years. The following story happened to me about a month after I moved there. I came from a city where the wildest things I had encountered was Filene's Basement on Sale Day. I was a Cement Queen, shopping for the perfect pair of shoes was a hunting trip to me. I was NOT a NATURE girl and frankly, I'm still not.

So, I'm living in a small ranching town in the Wild West (again with the dichotomy). The first time I saw wild turkey in my yard, I screamed bloody murder, dropped my brief case and high tailed it back into the apartment where I promptly called a fellow teacher and in a voice that only dogs could hear, asked what in the hell was in my yard. When the fellow teacher calmed me down enough to get a description from me and realized I had not been attacked by man nor animal, she told me they were wild turkeys. I told her they couldn't be turkeys because turkeys were only found in the supermarket labeled "Butterball." Let's just say that story followed me for the three years I lived there. Anyway... There were wild turkeys that lived in a flock (are turkeys in flocks? gangs? hordes? herds? clans? whatever...) in town and sort of roamed around. Everyone was used to them and seemed she surprised that I was shocked to find TURKEYS hanging around in my front yard!

I had a second turkey encounter not long after my first turkey experience. I lived in a basement apartment so all my windows were eye level to the ground. And it was a beautiful day with a great breeze and sunshine so all the windows were open, including the one in my bathroom. So, I took a shower and when done, I was standing in the shower dripping wet, towel drying my hair and heard a weird scratching-like noise. I flipped my hair away and looked at the window. There, standing pressed against the screen, staring at me in profile with one great eye, was a HUGE wild turkey, and not of the liquor variety.

It was just standing there, staring at me. And pecking at the screen!!! It scared me to death. I yelped, it gobbled. I screamed, it fanned its tail feathers and pecked the screen with more intensity. I ran out of the bathroom, starkers, and hid in the bedroom. Let me clarify: hiding from the turkey was actually me standing in the middle of my bedroom, in the center of my bed, with having slammed the door closed and locked it. I was hyperventilating and dripping and trying to not scream bloody murder, less my neighbors think I was committing hari-kari. All I could think was that any minute, the giant wild turkey will come in and peck my eyes out. Hey, I saw Hitchcock's The Birds! Well, it didn't get in. After what seemed like an eternity but was probably only minutes, I put on a robe and tiptoed to my door and pressed my ear against. Yes, like I thought I would hear the turkey ransacking my apartment or something. Like you wouldn't do the same.

I grabbed a weapon. Okay, let me clarify one more time. I was a single woman who didn't believe in guns and I was standing half- nekkid in my bedroom, in the center of my bed thinking I was going to be murdered by poultry. Rational I was not; furthermore, I am a woman who collects, of all things, shoes, did then and do now. High Heels to be specific. When I say weapon, I use that word loosely. I grabbed a shoe. Not an expensive spike heel though it would've impaled the turkey nicely, but instead I got a clog I didn't like well in case the blood didn't come out. Now that I was armed, I took a deep breath and unlocked the bedroom door. I peeked out and saw nothing.

Great, now I had to walk all three feet down the hall to see into the bathroom, to check if the turkey pecked through the door and was waiting for me to return. So, I go peek into the bathroom making sure all was clear. Nothing in the bathroom, or any of the other rooms.

As I was leaning against the bathroom door in relief and contemplating why I owed those nasty clogs anyway, I looked out the window and what did I see? A whole herd of wild turkeys (flock, herd, what's the difference at this point?) shuffle passed my window. Only one was a "Pecking Tom!"

So this Thanksgiving, in addition to being thankful for family and friends, I am also thankful I no longer live where the deer and turkeys roam free. And I am thankful for window screens.

Happy Thanksgiving!
Maggie