The Tale of the Turkey Attack (A true story)

The morning comes early when you are camping. The sun trickles in and stirs you from your slumber. It is a pleasure to wake up to daybreak rather than the blaring alarm of home.  That is how the day began, but soon our peaceful camp was about to be terrorized.

 

Coffee is an important detail of my mornings. On this particular camping trip we thought we would be smart and bring our Keurig  (it doesn’t take as long as the camping percolator). We were so prepared.  We had an assorment of yummy flavors , even dark chocolate milk! Unfortunately,  somebody (not naming names) didn’t check the maker to confirm it had all of its parts.  Our plan went kaplooey! Plan B? We sent our men off to the donut shop to fetch our early moring cup of joe.

Little did we know that our morning was about to take a turn and be fowled.

The Offender

As the kids were off playing  in a little rock pile, my girlfriend and I looked over and saw a giant feathered friend curiously approaching them. Quickly identifying it as our Thanksgiving meal, I remembered what my mom had told me about how turkeys attack ( she had worked at a turkey farm when she was young. She also has stories of attacking roosters, but that tale is for another day).  They are very aggressive and will jump on you. They are also really stupid.  Stupid and aggressive are not a good combination for any breed.

Of course, the kids were fascinated by him as he had his  feather action going. His tail was full-out and he was puffed-up–also a dangerous sign. Almost as tall as my daughter, he was a sight!  Being the brave mom’s that we are, we walked over and warned the kids to stay away from the petting zoo escapee and we proceeded back to our campsite…anxiously awaiting coffee.

Tom the Turkey (his real name) found the campsite next to ours to be interesting and he antagonized them for a while and then it happened…I made a turkey faux pas — I said, in his direction, “Where is the stuffing?”

MISTAKE! That puffed-up bird decided we needed some roughing up and he strutted on over to show us who the bird boss was in this campground. We thought if we ignored him he would lose interest, but nooooo. He crept deeper into our site… and we moved out of it as we watched.  May I  dare say that I believe he had a little bird crush on me. I think it was my colorful attire that attracted him. Could it have been the hot pink doo-rag and hot red fleece sweatshirt…?

Our quiet children (three girls and a boy) were gobbling at him and screeching and giggling–not a good plan if you are trying to shoo away an aggressive, puffed-up, stupid, turkey. My son was exclaiming tauntingly, “That’s no turkey! It looks like a chicken to me!” antagonizing the bird further as our two youngest girls ran into the tent, zipped it up and continued to giggle and squeal. We (the brave moms) tried to hush the kids while watching in complete fascination at the current event. It was quite obvious at this point that we were not great defenders of our campsite. In fact, we were pretty wimpy and blamed our demise on our husbands who were STILL not back with our coffee!

Then it happened… as the girls in the tent were high-pitch yapping and moving around, they shook the tent in such away that he couldn’t take it any more and he JUMPED on the tent in full attack.  Screams were everywhere as we were telling the kids to “Be quiet!” and “Stay in the tent!”  Complete pandemonium! 

Still puffed up and strutting, he gobbled, and gobbled and gobbled. He told us who was king of our camp. We were under his rule now.  We had been overthrown by a turkey and he was in a fowl mood.

Our camping neighbor saw us damsels in distress and she (not her husband) came to the rescue. She was the Turkey Whisperer and she coaxed him gently away from our dwelling place. Alas, this turkey did not go away quietly into the morning. Instead, he turned and attempted his Ninja moves on her too.  Certainly, he was a skilled warrior.   So much for turkey whispering.

Finally, the Turkey Tamer swooped in and demonstrated how gentle Tom the Turkey was as he picked him up and said we could pet him. Wrong-O-Turkey! You will get no gentle caresses from me. Put a fork in ya, your done! Now go back to your petting zoo!

Within minutes of being thrown back into the pen, our husbands arrived bearing gifts of caffeinated beverages and sugary donuts. They did not believe our turkey tale and they certainly thought that were were a bunch of big chickens . If they had been here they would have protected their women and children. But, they weren’t and I am not sure if I will ever look at Thanksgiving dinner the same.

Pass the cranberry sauce!

Happy Thanksgiving.

Stacey