I’m not sure I really have anything substantial to say today, but I feel like I should write something. You never know; some of my best posts start out this way. (Ever the optimist. But just look at the photo to the left... it has to be good, right? Turkeys???)
On the way to work this morning, on a 2-lane road a little over halfway to the clinic, traffic was at a stand-still in an area that never has delays. There was a stop light about 75 yards ahead, and I thought maybe the light was out, flashing red, but I couldn’t see it from where I was because I drive a short car in the Land of the Giant SUV. Suddenly, a mini-van flew past me on the right shoulder and stopped a few cars ahead. A guy in a yellow polo shirt leaped out and darted in front of where his van was sitting with its flashers blinking urgently.
As the cars crept forward a few feet, I saw the holdup. There were four gigantic, pterodactyl-sized wild turkeys calmly meandering across the road. It looked something like this,
except you need to mentally subtract three turkeys. I suggest you ignore the three on the right, as they are already off the road, unlike the turkeys in my story. Then relocate the whole scenario to this road:
At this point, I’m wondering how this guy came flying up behind me, somehow knowing the turkeys were there. Did he come from the other way, pass, turn around, and rush back? And – more importantly – why? This is Minnesota, where hunting is practically required by law. (Though I’m fairly sure it’s not Turkey Season.) I start thinking to myself, “If this guy runs up there and grabs a turkey, bashes it in the head or wrings its neck, and tosses it in his van, I am totally going to lose it.”
Yellow Shirt Guy started trying to shoo the turkeys off the right side of the road, and for a moment it seemed as if he might succeed. Was he trying to get them behind the fence in the yard over there so he could commit avian atrocities in private? The turkeys seemed to suspect his motives may have involved plucking and roasting, and resisted his attempts to herd them. They began making their way, at a still un-frantic but slightly more rapid pace, back across the highway toward the left shoulder. Yellow Shirt Guy followed, making sure they were safely off into the brush before motioning to the waiting vehicles that we could proceed. (Are yellow polos the official uniform of the Turkey Patrol? Is there a Turkey Patrol?)
But? Turkeys? They’re birds, yes? And can probably fly, on account of the feathers and the wings and such? So why walk across a busy highway at the height of the morning commute? Could it be, perhaps, that turkeys are not the theoretical astrophysicists of the bird world?
I was relieved that Yellow Shirt Guy was, in fact, herding turkeys in a “gotta protect our feathered friends” way, and not a “yum, drumsticks” way. I was, after all, on my way to work at a practice that is devoted to the gentle care of animals, and starting my day witnessing a turkey massacre would have totally sucked. I might have been so traumatized that I would have had to turn around, go home, and crawl back into bed. This would have had nothing to do with the fact that I only got about four hours of sleep last night.
I really, really need to figure out how to convince my brain to shut down at its usual 9-10 PM – instead of 12:30 AM, as was the case last night – on Tuesday evenings when I get home 2 ½ hours later than usual. Basset Hound under-eye circles are much, much, much baggier with less than 8 hours of sleep.
Oh, no. While thinking, “I need to find a really humorous link between turkeys and sleep to close the post,” I idly Googled “turkeys sleep.” And, may I say… “DUH!” Obvious…
If I am fortunate enough to encounter any wild turkeys, particularly on a Tuesday morning, I should chase one down and throttle it, or run it over with my car, then have it for dinner when I get home, because we all know about the soporific effects of turkey! The whole Thanksgiving Syndrome! The tryptophan in succulent turkey meat is a sleep-inducing substance!
Now I guess if I ever see Yellow Shirt Guy chase turkeys across the road and into the brush, then witness a massive rustling of branches, and see him emerge with a limp, feathery form thrown over his shoulder, I will know he’s not really a cruel, bird-bashing monster. He’s just having trouble sleeping.
5 comments:
If I were the maker of a sleep medication my pills would be in the shape of little turkeys...and the bottle would be shaped like a can of cranberry sauce.
I must tell you that I originally misspelled cranberry 'canberry' and found that to be really, really funny.
Marketing genius! What about anti-anxiety pills, or diet pills? OR... What about Viagra-like pills??? (Snorting hysterically over the many comedic possibilities!)
Oh, I believe those turkeys have been reading one of Donna Andrews' books, Miss Lori. She writes the nicest ones that seem to appeal to a feathered audience, and several have told all about the pleasure of creating traffic snarls.
Yes! That's her Meg Lanslow series (or similar?) I believe. Last one was funny, when she ended up with most of a defunct zoo's critters on their property. Started out with her father announcing there was a dead body buried in her basement but to please not disturb the penguins!
Yes, that's her. And she has another book due out tomorrow that's already nicely ordered. You should have heard our poor mailman's moans when he found out about that. So, have Darwin or any of his siblings read her work? I believe they could learn a lot from it.
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