Checkpoint

There is a flock of wild turkeys that lives in town and today they were running a sort of unofficial checkpoint on a street a few blocks from the house. There was a car stopped in front of me that was in conversation with a couple of them, and I could see the whole flock of about 20 of them under the apple trees in the front yard of a house.

The two that were engaged with the car were evidently the turkey police, their heads were bald and bright blue. They let the driver through and turned their attention to my car, charging straight towards it looking, from the neck up at least, like alien ghouls with a grievance. From the neck down they looked like turkeys, frankly. They peered over the hood in a menacing manner and then circled the car as if they were searching it for explosives or contraband, making this hideous conspiratorial noise.

The dog, in the back seat, had an expression on her face of utter gobsmacked disbelief. While the two police turkeys were arguing among themselves about whether they should open the trunk, I crept away thanking the Gods of Traffic that I was in the car and not on foot.

I like birds -- if it has fur or feathers and doesn't shit in the kitchen drawers I want to be its friend basically -- but these fellows, I'm just glad I'm not alone in some sort of detention cell with them now.