Perhaps the Best Way to Enjoy Your Turkey Is to Let it Run Free
A few weeks ago, my boyfriend Ben and I were visiting his sister in rural Eastern Washington. Her home lies in a mixed landscape where open fields and pasture lands rest scattered around stands of forest. It is a beautiful place. But our mission for the day was not to relax under the Ponderosa Pines, listen for the calls of the wild birds, or hike to explore the area. The purpose of the trip was to install two toilets.
When we arrived, I learned that Ben would have help from friends of his sister’s. This was great news. I had not been excited about this trip and I was not interested in helping with the handiwork. If I weren't being a "good girlfriend" and making time to spend with Ben and his family, I would have been reading, writing or hiking. I was there willingly, but underneath my affable demeanor, I was cranky.
Luckily, given all the extra helpers, nothing was expected of me. I took a stroll with Ben's sister around a nearby lake, and upon our return, I took a walk by myself. I crossed the pastureland behind her house, toward the forest that abutted her property. I considered going into her neighbor’s trees, but decided against it because I know that country folks who own land also own guns. Instead, I found a round rock to use as a pillow and lay down on the scratchy variegated ground. I hoped by looking skyward, I would see an eagle, raven, northern flicker, or better yet, a bird I’d never seen before. But birds are fickle; they often only show themselves when you least expect them. On this day, they were elusive.
Still, I had nothing to complain about. The sky was clear but for a few feathery clouds. The brisk air wafted across my face, where it whispered to me, “Enjoy this day. Winter is coming.” It was easy to doze off as I breathed in the smell of dirt and moss and pine trees.
As I awoke, I spotted a rafter of wild turkeys trotting towards me, oblivious to my existence. They looked like a group of middle school cross-country runners -- awkward, but happy to have a place to belong. I was delighted with this ensemble of turkeys, but I didn’t know if I should sit up and get a picture, or lie still and see how close they would come. I compromised and allowed them to get about twenty feet from me, before I slowly rose to take a snapshot.
My movement caused the turkeys to slow down before taking a long pause to gawk at me. Their fleshy red aprons stretched upward as their beady eyes stared inquisitively at me. They were clearly wondering where I came from. They did not seem scared, but played it safe by taking a 90 degree turn so they could lope away from me into the forest.
I stayed in this peaceful spot for another ten minutes or so, before heading back to the house, when I again spotted these funny feathered beings in the grassy field below me. They appeared to be having a fashion contest. The males were strutting around the group slowly, while fanning out their colorful tail feathers for all to see. It was as if there was a competition to decide which Tom was the sexiest. I didn’t know that male birds would show off when it wasn’t mating season. But given the number of years I have lived on this earth, I shouldn’t have been surprised.
When I arrived back at the house, I learned that there had been many difficulties in installing the toilets. I was told about some of the challenges, but I really wasn't interested. I was just happy that they had finished the job. And after my adventure in the field, I welcomed the company of my friends and leaned into enjoying time with them. The turkeys had made me a much better guest.
