Three Things About Turkeys

First thing. Surprisingly, turkeys are not uncommon on Staten Island. My mother works at a medical center where wild turkeys roam the grounds as if they were pigeons. In fact, there was even one time that my brother and I went to pick up my Mom at work. There was a flock of wild turkeys right next to us, so we stopped to observe. Upon our stopping, the turkeys, in unison, turned their heads toward us and advanced upon us menacingly. We drove on.

That's the second thing about turkeys. They're kind of vicious.

So you can imagine my family's delight/discomfort to learn that there were about eight turkeys in our backyard last night. Though I'd seen turkeys before, I'd never seen turkeys on our side of Staten Island, much less right in our backyard. We all observed from a distance, my father slightly more concerned than the rest of us, cuz he knows that these turkeys is MEAN.

Night passes as it does and my father goes to check on the status of the turkeys. No turkeys in the backyard. No turkeys at the side of the house. No turkeys in the front yard. There! (I presume he thought) That does it for those turkeys! But no.

Like something out of a horror movie, my father then heard the incessant gobble gobble of those self-same turkeys. He searched again. Side of the house. Backyard. Frontyard. No turkeys. But the gobbling! Backyard again, side, frontyard. Where are those turkeys?!

My father finally looks up. Sitting there, in the tree on the side of our house sat those eight-or-so turkeys. As he tells it, my Dad slowly, but immediately, got the hell out from under that damn turkey tree.

Third thing. Turkeys climb trees.