My back and wrist have been hurting me. And my neck hurt so much that I was taking a day off of work. But I still needed to go out for a walk in the morning. So I strapped on my camera, put on my coat, masked up, and headed out the door.
The alley was covered in ice, and after I minced my way carefully through it I realized it wasn't even the way I meant to go. So I turned to the river and headed against the direction I started out in. It was freezing cold out, in the twenties, and I did not feel well. I took a picture here or there, but without much conviction. The flowers are all gone and most of the leaves are off the trees now. There were swarms of interesting little songbirds fluttering about, but they were all so frisky and active I couldn't get any shots of them.
Because it was so cold out the river path was finally almost comfortably empty, but every once in awhile a jogger would come by, breathing and spewing particles and getting me to worry about coronavirus yet again. I climbed down to the river and there wasn't much happening. So I came back up from the river and ventured into the neighborhoods.
I was still cold and I wasn't having much fun. I had taken maybe 12 pictures and knew none of them would be any good. I figured I'd turn right at the street ahead, go down past where the turkeys sometimes rarely are, and continue on home. But just as I got to that cross street a disquietingly loud garbage truck turned right in front of me and began working in an unappealing way along my line of travel.
"Why does this always happen to me!" I lamented.
Without good options I headed on straight ahead instead.
And found a flock of 30 turkeys.