A Tall Feathered Tale

Sometimes things happen when you least expect it and they can totally turn your day around. This was one of those times.

I was driving down Sugarloaf Mountain Road thinking about the state of my affairs, which, if I had any thing to say about them, would be substantially different ~ Way Better ~ to be more specific. I came around a corner and what I saw before me was too weird to be true.

There was a man on a bicycle, moving rather slowly as he was pedaling  up   a steep incline. And running beside him was a long legged turkey.

I was shocked silly!

I pumped my brake pedal.

The turkey looked very tall;

the man looked very unhappy.

 

I rolled down my window and leaned out to get a better look. The poor man was trying to pedal even as the bird viciously pecked at him.  I casually asked him if this was his pet turkey. He had a hard time talking but he squawked something like, “this damn bird is trying to kill me!”

As I slowed my car beside them, the turkey was loudly vocal and partially threw out his tail feathers into a fan.  He was dark brown, wild, and rather trim, apparently from jogging.  He appeared to be much more in control than his opponent ~ gobbling, fanning and pecking at the poor fellow !

 

The gentleman biker had grey hair under his little helmet, and shiny black bike shorts that fit tightly on his upper thighs leaving the rest of his poor leg exposed. I feel quite confident in assuming he had no idea when he dressed that day that he would be fending off,  or racing against,  a rabid running turkey.

Lest you think I am being unfair to the biker, he outweighed the bird by 150 pounds at least, and I will confess, under different circumstances, I would have found them both equally attractive specimens.

 

I wanted to yell some encouraging words to the man on the bike but I was struggling not to laugh out loud. It was tough; I was choking up as I wiped tears from my eyes.

 

As I slowly rolled down the road, the scene in my rear view mirror was so comical I nearly wet my pants. That long legged turkey ran beside the bike in a dead heat.

I believe the fellow was trying to throw a kick at the bird without losing momentum. The turkey, displaying a much keener sense of physical prowess and never missing a stride, would expand his tail feathers and then pull them back into a neat bundle.

 

I know it is cliché, but seriously,

the last thing I heard as I rolled around the next curve

was the man screaming curses

to which the turkey answered with a long gobble.

 

 

No matter what is going on in my life,

I would rather be the turkey than the biker.

Archives

August 25, 2009

 

Happy Winter Solstice

PRECIOUS MOMENTS

We had a nice snow storm followed by brutally cold weather which means most of the snow is right where it fell a week ago! Going out at seven am for a morning feed feels better with a scarf wrapped across my face, so the nose hair doesn’t freeze as quickly. We are feeding our outdoor critters four times a day if possible, to help everyone keep their body weight up and because I work from home a lot, I can make this happen.

I was talking to my mom the other morning, with my feet propped up on my desk and gazing out my north window at our little herd. Every critter stood out in stark contrast to the white snowy backdrop. I watched with growing interest a little brown bird that was hopping around the perimeter of a large overturned Rubbermaid water trough.  Hilde, a two year old mini donkey, was playing with him.  She would stick out her nose towards him, he would hop and she followed him around the circle of the tub. Then he flew onto her back near her shoulder and she turned around and looked at him.

I often see birds perched on top of horses out in the pasture so this was nothing new to me, but it made me wonder what went through her young mind. Her enormous brown eyes checked him out for a long moment and then she almost touched him with her nose before he flew back to the grey tub. I described to my mom what I was watching and then I burst out laughing. This was totally new to me.

The little brown bird jumped back onto Hilde’s rump. And then he wiggled his little bird butt, nestling down into her fuzzy fur, a thick winter coat. He nearly disappeared!!

I could just hear him exclaim (in my best Tweety Bird voice)  “I taut I saw a little nest. Oooh, I did!  I did! I did find a little nest. My little feet-sies have been sooo cold. Oh goodie, goodie, goodie. Dis is very warm place.”

Hilde turned and looked at him again with a huge question mark on her forehead,  “Really !!!???!!”

But she let him stay. Mom and I laughed out loud. Another precious moment at Dragonfly Farm.

My Place of Worship

I wrote this as I drove away from Abiquiu, New Mexico.  It was inspired by a conversation sitting in a beautiful sun room with new friends.

My Place of Worship

The landscape is my cathedral,
this rock shall be my pew

and a dandelion leaf my communion.
The bird and the cricket form my choir
and their tracks in the dirt are my hymnal.
The clouds across the azure sky, my stained glass windows,
even as the night-time sky is an open portal welcoming me in.
The trees are my elders,
this pungent sage, my incense.
My love for you shall be an unending tithe.
I kneel beside my horse, in awe of all that I witness.
Dear God, Goddess, Creator of all that is,
thank you for this sanctuary.
No walls to hold me in, nor others "out".
Bless you for this day.
Amen.
    

A Simple Spring Story

It’s Sunday, early afternoon, first day of Spring and the day after the Super Full Moon. Wow!  I head to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee and pour it carefully into my “to go” cup. As I walk past my living room window to grab my car keys I pause for moment to watch the tiny scene unfolding in my front yard. I have been watering the giant trees around my house all day, supplementing the lack of moisture they have received from Mother Nature this winter. My windows are thrown open finally and the living room is filled with the sounds of happy birds; they too are loving this moisture.  In a few weeks I will ask Walker to help me rev up the lawn sprinkler system, but for now I have a hundred foot green garden hose attached to a long skinny spike that spews out mist through a half moon slit. Very simple and easy to move.

Earlier I saw a flock of red-winged black birds standing in the mist, and then came the chattering starlings. It is funny how the tribes travel together. Right now the lawn mister has attracted dozens of fat bellied red robins. They move in and out of the mist, busy, busy, busy.  But what intrigues me are the two that are huddled next to the spike drinking the drops that fall from the connection to the hose. Apparently only two birds at a time can fit there because as one robin glides in; another bird leaves. He raises his little beak and catches the next drop to fall. I think I can almost see him swallow; and again.  I am not sure what feels so sweet about this but it is a tender moment.

I am sure the trees are enjoying the soak and can almost watch the grass turning green.

I have never seen a bird drink like this and wonder if the “red-wings” are watching.

I am thrilled to share my abundance.