Gobble Gobble MotherCluckers

The AMJ household will be spending Thanksgiving at home, just us two and the cats, and hope you’re also making super responsible choices about safety and holidays. In the spirit of the holidays, I figured it’s time I told all of you about the time a turkey chased me into a ditch.

My best friend growing up lived further out in the country than I did. We’re talking two dirt roads and something that might’ve been a path carved by the mail truck kind of country. I loved it out there. I never was an outdoorsy type but their house and land was unusually peaceful and one of the most beautiful places I had ever been in all my eleven years.

My friend had a golf cart that we’d take to fetch the mail at the end of their long driveway. It was more fun to walk that mile but when you were on night five of a summertime sleepover marathon, the golf cart was the way to go. We’d often drive by snake treads and spot a deer in the distance but nothing could’ve prepared me for the turkeys.

Now, I’m too lazy to do the research on why exactly there was a large group of turkeys just minding their own business across the street from my childhood happy place. I’m gonna pretend that they were there on important turkey business because why not. The important things for you to know are 1) turkeys have excellent eyesight 2) turkeys are surprisingly fast and 3) you should never attempt to approach a turkey in a golf cart at full speed.

My friend and I decided it would be fun if we drove by the birds really fast to give ’em a good spook (there was no intent to hit them, we didn’t do that kind of thing). What we had forgotten was that the grass had grown up on either side of the “road,” covering the drainage ditches. So we drove by really fast and all the turkeys kicked up a fuss and we laughed and turned around to do it again. This time, however, a big ol’ Tom ran towards us, angry as I’ve ever seen a bird.

My friend floored it, the golf cart with a drained battery straining to get us back to their driveway. But in their panic, they started driving too close to the edge of the road. The Tom looming in our minds, the turkeys making a racket behind us, we turned a hard right into the drive way and I FELL OUT OF THE GOLF CART AND INTO THE DITCH. Gobbling and hooting filled the air. I was facedown in the grass, nose bleeding, my friend halfway to the house. I said a small goodbye to the world and hoped my obit would be kind enough not to mention my extinction event.

And then it all stopped.

The world was quiet save for the whispers of wind through the grass. I slowly raised my head out of the ditch and scanned the area for the birds. None. It was like they were never even there. I belly crawled to the driveway and then sprinted back to my friend’s house. My “friend” had already made lunch and was enjoying it in the living room. I, broken and bloody, just plopped wordlessly on the couch. The turkeys, I’m sure, were happy with their work.

Does this have anything to do with music? Not really. The moral of the story is “don’t be an asshole” and also “don’t be friends with someone who will leave you to get devoured by wild animals.” So, I guess it is applicable after all.

Happy Thanksgiving, all.

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