Where do turkeys go?

turkey

I am restless these days. Even more restless than my cute darling of a dog who loves to heave pitiful breaths when she is eager to go on a walk or wants to be fed or wants more attention. This is the dog who hops off the couch every few minutes and drives us crazy as she trots to and fro, poking her head out the doggie door and then hoping back onto the couch…only to hop off again. I am more restless than she.

I feel a need for constant stimulation, despite being trailed by nagging exhaustion at every turn. I want to travel, even though I just returned from a trip to New York and Las Vegas a couple weeks ago (and before that: Miami and England and (again) Las Vegas and Israel all in a span of 2 months). I want to put my finger on a map of the world and proclaim, “THERE!” And then be there. And after that, put my finger on the world again and proclaim myself somewhere else.

For the first time in over a decade, I want to move again, even though I love my job and I still have a semester of school left, and I love my home, and I love this place and city so much that it feels insane to even entertain the thought of moving away. But I want a change. I want to move. I want different scenery. I want constant stimulation. I don’t want to be still at all.

In fact, I feel like I’m on the run. But from what? I’m not so sure at all.

But I’m going to have to stay still–surgery is coming up, and then I’m not to carry any weight (read: luggage) and need to keep my activity to a staid minimum (read: no travel). And I dread that stillness very very much.

Whatever I’m running from, it’s going to catch up to me, I know it. And I’ll be caught by surprise, because I have no idea what the monster looks like.

…Today I drove down the usual road from my house to get onto the freeway to go to a doctor’s appointment. There is a beltway or greenway or whatever it’s called, or brushes that run alongside the freeway down the hill from our home. In the past seven years, I have seen a homeless person’s tent in there, and I have seen plenty of squirrels and birds but mostly it is an eventless place.

The eventless setting passes by my windows in a blur of green (or yellow and green, during the summer) as I drive by it nearly every day, nearly several times a day everyday.

Until a few weeks ago, when we spotted a turkey in the grass. Yes, a turkey! I tore out of the car and took a few snapshots of the turkey–and discovered her brood, several little hatchling turkeys! (See the turkey in the picture? At her feet, are several baby turkeys. Just look closely, they’re there).

It was an adorable scene…and one that somehow inspired me–wild turkeys in our semi-urban setting, living under the freeway, amidst the greens. I wished them well, hoping they would all live into adulthood and have happy lives hidden in the greenery.

Everyday, I would glance at the greens, hoping for a glimpse of the happy turkey family. And I would not see them, but I knew that they were probably well.

Today, they (CalTrans and the East Bay Conservation Corps) are clearing out the brush, and the “French broom.” Ah, they are tearing out the turkey habitat!

Still, I wish the turkeys well. I know they just want a place to stay and live, unlike my own restlessness. I keep wanting to move around, and here I am, having to stay still…and there are the turkeys, only wanting to stay still, but having to move around.

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2 Comments

Filed under Life, The Stroke, Travel

2 responses to “Where do turkeys go?

  1. LeRoy Dissing

    Jade…I hit a turkey last week – grazed the top of my windshield. It was a foggy morning on my way to work – I drive 70 miles one way on country roads. This turkey comes running up out of long grass in the ditch and starts to go airborne as I drive by at 60 mph. It happened so fast that by the time I reacted, the turkey nearly cleared my car. I looked back in the rear view mirror but all I could see were feathers – no bird on the road so I hope it made it. No damage to the car.

    If you ever get to Wisconsin, they run wild here.

  2. Oooh I hope you did not hit the turkey–it always feels awful thinking you might have killed an animal.

    Around here, there are tons of deer–I’m always driving slowly down the hill until I’m out of the deer zone.

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