Free-Ranging Turkey

“But ask the animals, and they will teach you, or the birds in the sky, and they will tell you.” -Job 12:7-10

When I first laid eyes on him, he posed a menacing figure. There he was in the middle of the intersection. Cars were held up in all directions. Horns honked, and the aggravation of being stuck only added to my already despondent mood.

There was a chill in the air that morning a week before Thanksgiving. Upon waking, I staggered out of bed and poured myself a cup of coffee. Still sleepy, I plunked down in my lazy boy recliner to warm up in front of my electric fireplace.

Sipping my coffee, I thought of all the preparations I needed to make for our traditional holiday at my sister’s house, but I couldn’t seem to muster up any holiday spirit. The dancing flames took me back to the carefree days of my childhood when cozy holidays were spent by my grandparents’ red brick hearthside, and neighbors stopped to greet one another.

Maybe it was the lack of sunlight that comes with the long winter days or the heaviness of the political polarity our nation has seen in recent times. Whatever the reason, I needed to shake this mood, so I pushed myself to get started on my holiday cooking in hopes that would spark some cheer.

I headed out into the cold November air, and drove toward the village of Williamsville, NY, for baking supplies. As I approached the corner of Paradise and Klein, I saw ahead of me a procession of taillights lined up bumper to bumper. Slowly, cars began creeping closer to the traffic light. Suddenly, just ahead, tires screeched, and the car ahead of me came to a halt. What could be the hold up? I thought.

Then I saw it whirling across the intersection like a Tasmanian devil. I gasped at the sight of the culprit. Pausing underneath the stoplight, he stood there like a traffic cop on duty. It was a wild turkey.

The traffic remained gridlocked. The turkey surveyed the situation, spotted my red Malibu, and at first, he slowly moved toward me, then stopping and looking every few steps, he darted right to my driver’s side door.

With a tilt of his head, he gazed up at me through the car window as if to beckon me. Our eyes met. Was this creature flirting with me?

Having enjoyed birds as pets, I found him to be a handsome creature with sleek bronze feathers mixed with iridescent tones of green, and his brightly colored head implied it was a male turkey. We seemed to make a connection, and I almost wanted to open the car door and take him home. Strangely, there was something endearing about this bird.

The light turned green, and the traffic finally proceeded on. Eager to move with the ongoing flow, I rolled down the window and waved my hand in a shooing motion. Still, he did not move. Finally, I honked my horn, and he nonchalantly waddled away from my car. Relieved that he moved on, I quickly grabbed my cell phone and shot a piece of photographic evidence as I was sure nobody would believe me about my strange encounter with a turkey. I left the scene intrigued by such a presumptuous creature, but also feared for his safety.

Later that evening, after baking two pumpkin pies, I excitedly shared a Facebook post about my experience with the turkey. Shortly after posting, someone commented that they stayed familiar with that turkey in the picture. Upon some research, I found several articles about this bird pecking at tires and playing chicken with moving vehicles. It seems Calvin was well known by the community. Throughout the week of Thanksgiving, posts were made from people who went to see him. People fed him, children adored him, and he was a friend to many, the young and the old.

Locals had given Turkey many names. Some call him Gus, others Tom, but I call him Calvin after the clothing designer Calvin Klein because of his fine luxurious feathers and his Klein street location.

I would eagerly await to see “Calvin” whenever I drove by the corner of Paradise and Klein. Someone even caught him on video running after a moving postal truck like a dog chasing the mailman! Another person posted a picture of him standing in the rain at his intersection like a watchman on duty, seemingly unaffected by the storm. I couldn’t stop laughing at his vigilance. Sharing this connection over Facebook with the community gave me a much needed sense of unity that had been so desperately missing in the world today.

With all the excitement of my new turkey friend, I was no longer feeling down. Who would have ever thought a wild traffic-chasing turkey would chase my blues away?

It became concerning that Calvin could be endangering himself or others. Then one day, Calvin was nowhere in sight. I hadn’t seen him near Paradise and Klein when I drove by. My heart sank. Could he have been hit by a car? I wondered. I later read in the newspaper that he had become so much a public safety concern that he was taken to a wildlife refuge. Officials had relocated him once before, and he managed to find his way back and reclaim his territory, but this time he did not return. Calvin’s community of Facebook followers mourned the loss. I, too, would miss him.

As Thanksgiving approaches once again, the holidays are wrought with restrictions, political division, and the uncertainty of the Covid pandemic. But however tumultuous times may be, I count my blessings and find that there is comfort and joy that comes from the unity of belonging to a community of people who were touched by a free-ranging Thanksgiving turkey.