November 26, 2003
Turkey
A family down the street once had a pet turkey named Tom that would escape from his corral ever so often and assume command of the neighborhood.
You can say what you will about turkey IQs, but this one took no guff from anybody. Cats and dogs were completely intimidated. The rest of us kept our distance whenever he came out for a stroll.
He soon took a liking to a walnut tree in our backyard. Roosting high on one of its branches, he’d waggle his wattles and gobble his grating cry whenever someone seemed to threaten his authority, day or night.
All this worked well for him until one day when the city held its annual hot-air balloon festival. As the gentle breezes so ordained, a half-dozen wonderfully huge and colorful balloons with their basketed passengers huffed and puffed their way by barely above the housetops near Tom’s tree.
Turkey that he was, he tried to join them, and we never saw him again.