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Why You Should Never Chase a Wild Turkey

This article is in no way about the booze that was very astutely named after one of nature’s most terrible monsters, the turkey.  Farm raised turkeys seemed like scrotum-necked dullards but a wild turkey is some kind of heinous, devil-gobbler.  It is a shit with feathers and you should stay away from it because imagine what a shit with feathers would be like.  It would be like a shit, in your hand (or clasped in whatever clasping device you possess, your mouth or buttocks maybe) and all fluffy with stink feathers.  But also imagine if shit was possessed of an angry will to do harm unto you.  So imagine if the shit was a turkey.  Did you see what I just there?  PAUSE THE INTERNET AND LOOK!

Not entirely far from where I live there is a mysterious property that would like you not to trespass on said property.  What is the property?  I DO NOT KNOW.  It is a massive, fenced in something or other, and on the opposite side of the fence is a natural fence of trees that I can’t see past.  For all I know it’s a private forest.  I’ve never bothered to circle the perimeter to find an entrance.  There’s a locked gate on the side by where I live, but it doesn’t even have a road leading to or away from it.  I assumed for a long time it was just an X-Files thing.  Until I saw a turkey.

I’ve never seen a turkey running around the city before.  It’s weird.  It’s not normal.  It was awesome.  I can’t explain why, but it was.  It was a turkey, just standing there on the other side of the fence I’m not allowed to trespass on because the sign tells me so.  And so naturally I climbed the fence.

The turkey eyeballed me as I climbed up but didn’t seem particularly put off by the idea that I was flagrantly disregarding posted signage.  It waddled a few steps away along the tree line.  I paused at the top of the fence, because I’m an internet comedy writer and have no business leaving the ground.  With a quick prayer I leapt from the fence top to the ground below.  After a moment to get my bearings I looked up.  The turkey was looking at me.  I was looking at the turkey.  And just like that I was blessed with incredible insight. My insight was this – what the hell am I going to do now?

What was my plan?  Was I going to catch and eat the turkey?  Would I befriend it?  Ride it?  Punch it out to teach it why I am the dominant life form on earth?  What kind of idiot climbs a fence to go after a wild turkey?

Sensing my sudden trepidation or perhaps just because it was an asshole, the turkey made its move.  As though I had just shouted “come at me bro” the goddamn bird came at me, bro.  And I stupidly couldn’t even register the threat at first.  All I could think was how his neck looked like old man at the Y nutsack.  And then he was literally running into me.  Beaks and wings and ugly little talons were all aflutter.  I did the only thing I could think of doing and I punched that turkey right in his head.

I’m mildly ashamed to admit that, from a crouching position and half surprised, I punched a bird and it didn’t seem to phase it much.  It stumbled and came at me again.  It was at this point that I got up and started to run away.  I ran away from a turkey.

Far more spry than such a chubby bird has a right to be, the turkey gave chase for a good clip.  I found myself running out of space as the border fence fast approached, forcing me to assess my odds on being able to Jackie Chan my way up a fence whilst pursued by angry poultry.  It was literally the dumbest situation I have ever been in.

I hit the fence and had a “what’s the worst that could happen?” moment and leapt.  You can’t appreciate what I look like when I panic leap away from a turkey without seeing it firsthand.  Even I can’t appreciate it fully, having only experienced it from my perspective.  But when I latched onto that fence a full 6 inches off the ground, I was a little disappointed in myself.

The turkey was on me like stink on a monkey as I scrambled, shouting obscenities at the bird while it beat at me with wings like massive brooms, just smacking the ever loving shit out of me.  And, of course, I was forced to retaliate by kicking it in the head.

I’m not proud that I kicked a turkey in the head and I don’t condone animal abuse, I’m just saying that this particular turkey was a real dickhead and had it coming.

The kick was enough to get the bird to back off as I made my escape.  On the other side of the fence we locked eyes again.  No words were spoken, unless you count when I told the turkey to eat my ass.  I think, on some level, he understood.

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