Yesterday morning, I woke up and headed to the office to write (holiday Mondays are writing days around here, in case you wondered). I said hi to the cat, started the coffee, and walked into the office … to see a three-foot turkey staring in at me through the window.
NOT your usual Monday at the office.
I ran for my camera. By the time I returned he had left the window and headed into the (neglected through the winter, and in desperate need of pruning) rose bed.
But there wasn’t just one turkey among the roses. There were seven. My friend Tom the Giant had brought his brother and five lovely ladies, all of whom seemed perfectly content to loaf around in the half-dead foliage I’ve been slowly clearing as spring approaches.
Weird, but also fun, in its way.
I took some photos, left them alone, and returned to the office to write.
A few minutes later, I heard a noise that suggested all was not well in turkey-land. I looked out the window and saw that Giant Tom and his brother were looking at something through the trees in the neighbors’ yard.
Never one to let turkeys have all the fun, I grabbed my camera and wandered out for another look.
A second group of turkeys was forming ranks in the neighbor’s driveway, gobbling to one another like protesters setting up for a rally. (EAT MORE BEEF.–brought to you by the Turkey council.)
As I watched, the smallest male puffed out his feathers, displayed his tail, and set off down the driveway with his entourage in tow. When they reached the street, Puffy Tom started gobbling and looking off across the cul-de-sac… where a second group of turkeys (this one with blue heads instead of red ones) stood waiting to rumble.
I couldn’t have made this up if I tried.
Just at that moment, my phone rang, so I reluctantly headed back into the house for a conference call. As I talked with my client, all twenty turkeys – red-heads and blue-heads alike – returned to my rose bed and milled around as if engaged in high-level avian peace talks.
Much posturing and tail-fanning ensued.
I had to leave the window. It isn’t easy to focus on publishing contracts when two dozen turkeys are suing for peace in your rose bed.
By the time I finished my call, the turkeys had flocked off down the street, leaving only the original tom and his ladies among the roses.
I still don’t know who won the turkey turf war, but I might think twice about going to work in pajamas from now on.
You never know when you’re going to run into a peeping Tom.