Spring

April 10, 2017

Greetings from the second fittest,

“In the Spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love.”  Tennyson

Spring had officially graced our territory some weeks ago, but due to communication issues nature did not acknowledge the change until it had one last paroxysm of winter.  This spasm of snow and wind and sleet was followed by a spike in temperature so severe that many people felt convinced (again) about climate change issues.  But the warmer weather was not the true indicator of the arrival of spring, of course.  Spring is mating season, which Tennyson described much more delicately.

In our yard there are regular visitors from other species.  Squirrels, chipmunks, raccoons, skunks and the occasional fox, and while we don’t see them, we know there are coyotes prowling nearby.  Deer come through a few times a day, and I still find myself amazed to see small herds milling about.

And the other visitors.  It is not uncommon for large flocks of turkeys to walk through our yard, but that is not to say that it is not unusual.  Because they are far from ‘usual’; there is something strange and unsettling about them.

Every day I can hear them laughing maniacally.  I don’t know if they have found something amusing in the woods or if maybe they have lost their minds.  Or perhaps this is how they frighten the other animals around them.  Probably that.  It works if you think about it.  Which occasionally, in the middle of the night, I do.

And these are birds, right?  But they walk around in groups, like hoodlums with spindly legs.  Coming out of farmers’ fields where they eat whatever they want, walking in that deliberately menacing way.  They can fly, I know they can, but they choose to walk just to make a point. 

All this is strange enough, but yesterday for the first time I saw the leader, the man turkey.  The Tom.  I can’t say where this guy has been, but after seeing him it was probably wherever it is he wanted to be.  He is the boss.

The turkey menagerie meandering through our yard is made up of well fed, big birds.  The Boss turkey is bigger; CrossFit bigger.  As I watched him strut around the yard, arrogant in my world, I realized something important; this turkey could take me.

This was a bird from a different era.  It was a Tyrannosaurus Rex Turkey.

By most comparisons, I am the superior specie.  I can reason, I can fashion tools, I can philosophize, make fire, search the internet, travel the globe.  But if it was a showdown between me and T Rex Tom, I have a feeling I would be a victim of fowl play.

I grew up in the city so most of my experience with turkeys was watching come out of the oven, which is the way I like it, especially now that I have been intimidated by one.

I’m glad I didn’t know this yesterday, but turkeys can run up to 25 mph.  They have talons.  They have sharp, pointy beaks.  And a snood, a wattle and just for good measure, a beard.  I don’t even know what the snood is for but I am a little frightened by the fact he has one.

Fact is I know this T Rex is not interested in me, unless I come between him and his girlfriends, which for the record I have no intention of doing.  He is out in all his grandeur to impress as many females as possible with his strut.  I will admit, even lacking the instinct of the hens in my yard, I was impressed. 

It probably does not reflect well on me to admit that I am so willing to abdicate alpha status to a bird that in fact I am not even competing with.  I know that.  I think if we really were seeking the affection of the same hen I might not be able to win her heart just based on my snood, or the fan of my tail feathers.  But I would have the advantage of poetry, since turkeys cannot hold a pen and have no sense of meter.  Take that T Rex.

Hope this finds you gobbling,

David

Copyright © 2017 David Smith