It’s the Tuesday before the Big Turkey Day. Many are spending their time getting ready for the Big Day. There will be turkey, dressing, cranberry sauce, and football. Many will be on the road driving to visit relatives—some far away, some just down the street.
Last week, we were at the house working when all of a sudden, Ardis says, “Look! They’re here!”
“Who?” I ask.
Hey! Where's the meeting?
She points to the windows leading into the backyard and there, as stately as they can, are wild turkeys marching across the backyard at the edge of the woods. The week before Thanksgiving! Are these birds insane?
Did these birds miss the NOTAM, or what? Don’t they realize this is the week they should make themselves very scarce? As I am having these thoughts, I also think about my shotgun. I am almost convinced I should go get it, when I realize the only shells I have are buckshot. Ah, there’s probably an ordinance or something about shooting wild turkeys in a residential neighborhood anyway.
These conventions are all so confusing. Which way did they say to go?
Hummmh…
Not going to work.
Then I think of my Canon.
I take a couple of shots through the window and then recognize the need to get outside with the birds to get a good shot. I slowly slide the door open and step out on the patio. Quietly, I stalk my prey…
They are wary, but still slowly walk by. Has no one explained to these birds the importance of this week? Do they not understand many in America have invited them to dinner? Do they know they are dinner?
They go over to the next-door neighbor’s for their convention. I think they want to play beach ball bingo, or maybe they are confused about the purposes of beach balls in a residential neighborhood.
It is about this time they discover me watching and shooting. They can hear the sound of the shutter going off. I hear one of them say, Oops! Gotta go! Then they come running by me in the opposite direction.
I think they should have gone the other way to avoid passing me by, but then I comprehend the direction of the wind. All pilots and birds will accomplish all takeoffs and landings into the wind…
Hey! Turkeys! Want to come to dinner on Thursday?
The 390th Annual Meeting of Don't Eat Turkeys This Week will now come to order.
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©2011 J. Clark
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You were heavily outnumbered, Joe. Good thing Ardis had your empennage covered.
There were actually more than this group; could not believe they simply wandered into the backyard.
What no bow and arrow in your arsenal? What will you and Ardis eat for Thanksgiving dinner? Love the beachball in the background! Happy Thanksgiving to you both.
I don’t know, Jeanne, I used to have some of those. But in a “target-rich” environment such as this, I would have probably missed and hit something else. I have never had “beachball” for Thanksgiving–and that is probably what I would have hit!
Well as we arrive at Thanksgiving we stuff ourselves full of Turkey and Dressing and Cranberry Sauce and watch a little football and then wake up early to attack Black Friday.