After three weeks I was finally well enough to walk to work once again. Winter had come since I'd last been out, the trees were now bare and gray, the walks full of ice, and there were the kind of bitter temperatures one can get used to, but it takes some serious time and commitment to do so. I left early enough so that I could travel sedately, wrapped up as much as possible. And as I so often find when I'm walking I have ideas, lots of ideas..
They were all kinds of ideas for blog posts, but as I thought about them I found I didn''t want to write about any of them.
So the turkeys came to save me. Wild turkeys of the city. They were running and jumping. I have only ever known these turkeys to be sedate, thoughtful, contained, but today, in the new cold and bare world they were rambunctious! They were full of fun. They were laughing in the face of Thanksgiving. They were leaping foolishly for the fruit from trees two feet higher than they could reach. They were racing each other. They were gamboling! And why not. I counted them again. Nineteen. The same exact amount of the group when I saw them back at the end of summer.
One might think it a hard life, living wild in the city.
Not for turkeys. Nothing can kill them. They are young forever.
No babies over the summer? That concerns me. I hope they are young forever and never die.ReplyDelete
No, I only counted from late summer, but I have never, admittedly, seen little turkeys around in many years of river turkey watching!Delete