I can remember the first time I saw a wild turkey. We were renting a house in the middle of an industrial park--sort of this island of woods and fields in the middle of this huge airport industrial park, maybe half a mile from the airport. We had this very long half-a-mile driveway, and we were on our way out--the driveway dumped us in the middle of an aerospace contractor's parking lot--when we encountered this huge bird sitting in the middle of our driveway. It was way too big and ugly to be one of our chickens, and not ugly enough to be a turkey vulture.
No, not in the usual usage, of a stupid person, although heaven knows Mojo has suffered her share of them. No, this time I mean the birds. As in, LOTS of them.
I don't know what's going on in Turkeyland--I'm fairly sure they don't migrate to any great extent--but lately I can't drive more than two miles without encountering FLOCKS and FLOCKS of them hanging out by the side of the road.
This'll be short and sweet and devoid of many of the obvious jokes. Suffice to say, Mojo glanced out the window the other day and saw something large and suspicious lurking near her beloved vegetable garden. As we shall see over the course of this week (and as loyal readers already know) Mojo never knows exactly what is lurking in her back yard. So she got her trusty video camera, went upstairs to the bedroom, and discovered the following:
I noticed them Easter Sunday, but now blackfly season is in full swing. One of the regulars at the library says the blackflies exist this time of year to keep people from picking all the flowers. Lady's slippers, trout lilies, daffodills and tulips--we observe them from the safety of our cars, but step outside for more than ten seconds and you are mobbed.
What I don't understand is their penchant to commit suicide by divebombing your eyes. Not only is it painful and icky for their victims, but it must not be a nice way to go. You would thing the preservation of the species would dictate a better way.