Maybe I’m just anthropomorphizing, but I think that turkey is in a panic.

Just in the time it took me to walk to my car, I’ve seen the bird dart across the parking lot a few times. He’s pecking at the grass in front of the apartment, which is farther than I’d ever seen him venture before. The he darts back to the now razor-thing treeline and waits there as if any hiding there is possible.

I do not give this bird a week to live, and I feel bad about it, and there is nothing I can do.

I noticed the turkey maybe a month ago. He had a buddy as well, but this guy was clearly the grand-daddy, large enough that he made this human a little nervous. Turkeys are goofy-looking, but I would not put it past a full-grown one to be able to peck a person to at least some sort of treatable injury. I know this first-hand from the summer my family tried to raise a flock of them. They like to climb, and they like to peck.

One of the nicest amenities of my apartment has been this lush wooded area that has been my view. Well, about a month or so ago, capitalism began the process of taking that away from me. I’d hear them as early as 7 a.m. ripping trees out over there. Last week, I got back from a week out of town, and sure enough, they’d finished that stage of the project. Now only a faint treeline exists between my property and several acres of newly uncovered dirt where there used to be trees.

I’ve seen deer, I’ve heard foxes, and I’ve seen these turkeys, not to mention other wildlife. This was quite an active scene. I can’t imagine how many birds alone had their entire ways of life disrupted because Sam Mustache needed to build a new industrial park. And this turkey. This poor panicked turkey. Were that I could take him in for a while. Have him crash on my futon until he gets back on his feet.

Isn’t he wacky?

In Other News
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