Where Are We?
There’s a funny thing about turkeys and me, wild turkeys that is. My first encounter was clandestine. It happened on a girl’s weekend a couple of years ago. Two of us flew up to Sacramento, rented a car and drove out to Nevada City to visit another friend in her new home.
She lives in middle of the woods. Wild turkeys live in the middle of the woods. The only way in and out of her place is a single lane dirt road. By the end of our visit, the rental car was covered in a layer of the local soil. Our friend’s husband generously offered to hose down the car for us before we left. This proved not to be a good idea. The water revealed a roof and a trunk covered in scratches. You get one guess – turkeys! During the night, they hopped or flew up onto the car for a nighttime roost. (Yes – wild turkeys can fly – a butterball, not so much)
With the car still wet, we took off down the road kicking up dust and hoping it would settle back on and cover the scratches (we did not select “turkey damage” coverage). Interesting side note, rental car agents don’t check car roofs. We left the trunk up and ran into the airport as soon as the receipt was printed.
My next turkey encounter was just a few days ago. On college visits in northern California, we toured a couple of the UC’s in preparation for our soon-to-be empty nest. (I just had to use another bird reference.) After one of the 90 minute walking tours, we were resting in the hotel room. I heard a gobble gobble sound. I glanced over at my daughter and asked her what game she was playing on her iPod. Turned out, she wasn’t playing a turkey game. We raced to the window and saw the turkey we captured in the photo below. (Click photo to enlarge).