One november day a few years ago, I was riding my bike back home from a friends house. It was getting dark so I decided to go home. I was riding through my usual shortcut, when I turned the corner and saw a large brown mass of feathers blocking my path. Before me stood a massive turkey, with an almost sunburn-pink head speckled with a pale blue. I got off my bike and started yelling at it. It didn’t move. I walked closer to it with my arms flailing in the air like a crazy person. It didn’t even flinch. It just sat there staring at nothing. I tried a variety of things, none of which worked. Finally as a last resort, I picked up a large stick and poked it. As soon as the tip of the branch touched its feathers, I knew I messed up. The turkeys bald head slowly turned toward me. My plan was that it would waddle away and leave me alone, but I was wrong. Very wrong. It ran straight at me, and out of pure rage pecked at my legs as fast as a jackhammer. With the large bird attacking me, I slowly made my way back to my bike and made my escape. I peddled as fast as I could in the opposite direction with the psycho turkey on my tail. This went on for around five minutes before the turkey gave up and crept into the woods with its eyes watching my every move. I made my way back home keeping my eye out for those devil birds. That Thanksgiving, I refused to eat turkey. Since then I have never seen a turkey in my neighborhood, and hopefully it will stay that way.
The Turkey Bites Back
November 18, 2016