16 miles yesterday. 1 indigo bunting. 1 white cat. 9 wild turkeys.
The wild turkeys came in bunches of three—a tom and two hens, each time. Toms are much bigger than hens, and their coloring is much more complex. When a tom struts onto the path, the word resplendent comes to mind. With hens, the word is meek and it's a walk, not a strut.
With each group, from a distance I could see the tom herding the hens along, bossing and directing them. Those toms were large and in charge until danger approached. The moment they perceived me, each one turned (resplendent) tail and made a mad dash for the deep weeds, leaving those little hens to face the invader alone or get out of its way on their own.
The first one surprised me. The second disappointed me. As I got close to the third group, inside I was begging, "Please don't be a...
Turkey.
5 comments:
Perhap the hens were simply too busy talking to see the danger.
Rat bastard Turkeys.
Love how your biking "practice" brings up all kinds of imagery. Keep pedaling...you ain't no turkey my friend!
This made me think of Monica's turkey story. So funny!
Why does this observation not surprise me!
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