Notes from the Edge 04-14-24

Posted
by Dell 04-14-24 3:21 A.M.

Well, here it is 2024 and it doesn’t look any different than 2023 did. Same
politicians with the same promises, same clouds in the sky, same snow on the
ground, same turkeys trying to eat my Fred cat.

I know it sounds funny, but it isn’t. As you probably didn’t know we’re out here in the
boondocks, well, the lesser boondocks, okay, the suburbs of the boondocks.
There are some woods here, okay? The turkeys live in the woods, and that’s
fine. That’s fine because Fred lives in the house. No problem, except Fred was
converted from a do whatever she wanted to cat to
a live in the house cat and that means that sometimes Fred gets the urge to go
out into the wilds of the back yard and look around. That brings Fred into
conflict with the Turkeys.

When Fred and I were just getting to know each other, she decided to impress me. So,
every day for about three weeks Fred would bring me a semi dead something.
Bird, Squirrel, mouse, you get the idea. Then Fred decided to teach me to hunt,
at least I think that was the intention. Fred probably thought I was a soft
cat. Hanging out in the house all day, never hunting in the backyard, and I
suppose Fred figured that if she had to be seen with me that she should make me
a little more presentable. So, she went from dead and semi dead to live gifts.
In other words, down the Chimney Fred would come with a live bird, squirrel,
mouse, bring it right to my desk, look at me, probably thinking. … “Okay,
Stupid. I’m going to let this go and you’re going to catch it. I can’t keep
feeding you. You have to learn to hunt” … or something like that. And
then, Surprise! Fred let the Bird, squirrel, mouse go.

Oh, what fun, what joy, tearing around the house trying to catch the bird,
squirrel, mouse. I’m not making this up, so I found it amusing when Fred began
his Turkey troubles. Seemed like pay back to me, like the little birds had
called up their bigger cousins.

The turkeys believe the back yard and the woods are theirs. These are not little
turkeys these are huge full-grown turkeys. Big, and not like the turkeys at the
A&P. These suckers still got heads, beady eyes, wings that can fly,
feathers, the whole nine yards.

Have you ever seen twenty-five or thirty pounds of bird fly? The whirring of their
wings sounds unreal. Heavy. Like a chopper is about to land. The first time I
heard it I thought it was a helicopter far away. Nope, four huge turkeys
dropping out of the sky to land next to the window and eat the bread Mom put
out. I jumped about three feet straight up in the air when I saw them.

So, I’m not really sure what started it with Fred and the turkeys. One day they
just decided they were going to eat Fred. He probably looked a lot better than the
bread, so Mom opens the door, Fred walks out leisurely, like he owns
the yard, like he has all day, and then WHIRRRRRR, thirty-pound birds dropping
from the sky and Fred ran for the shed.

Mom had shut the door, but she yanked it open and sprang into action. Funny? Mom
is… Let’s say older and leave it at that… but she is no slouch, and no one
eats her cats without her permission. Broom in hand mom went after the turkeys
who pretty much had Fred cornered at the edge of the house, he couldn’t get to
the shed and couldn’t get back to the house.

Mom is about this high. (I was holding my hand up, sorry you couldn’t see
it, but I am no fool). Do not tell a woman’s true age, and don’t
make remarks about her height or lack thereof. Let me just say this; If the turkeys
had thought to stand on one another’s shoulders they may have been able to hold
her off, snatch up Fred, and make their getaway. But they didn’t and they could
not stand against the broom wielding woman who is my mom.

I guess the turkeys just looked at it like shopping…

“Heeeey, Billllly, is that a cat down there?” whirrrrrrrrrrr

“Yup. Looks like it, Brian.” whirrrrrrrrrr

“I was just going for eggs and cheese, but cat would go good too…” whiiiiiirrrrrr

That was round one. I slept through it. The next day mom put the bread out again. I
said, “But, Mom. The turkeys tried to eat Fred!”

“Honey that was just because I didn’t put enough bread out there for them. We have
this half loaf of wheat bread that’s gone bad.”

“We just got that two days ago!”

“Goes bad fast.”

You can’t argue with Mom. I looked at it like a turkey payoff. But she put the
bread out and the turkeys didn’t show up. We both wondered about it for a while but eventually the day went on and we forgot.

Fred gets in and out of the house on her own most of the time, right into the utility room, up
the old chimney and under the roof eves and she’s out. But now that Fred is
pregnant, she prefers the door. Probably smart since she is about as wide as she
is long now. So, I let her out about an hour later. The door wasn’t even closed
before I heard the whirring and the biggest damn birds, I’ve ever seen that
close up dropped from the sky. I was no help; I froze like a deer caught in the
headlights. The only thing that helped was that I froze and left the door slightly
open, and Fred darted back in. The turkeys saw me, glared at Fred and then took
off. I could have sworn the one turkey called Fred a Bitch as he flew away.
Gangsta turkeys these were.

I learned a few things though. First, turkeys do make
gobbling sounds. They sound like some fat guy sitting in the brush with a
shotgun doing a bad turkey call. Exactly like that. In fact, I’m pretty sure the
fat guy did a better job than the turkey did. Second, these Turkeys are not
kidding. The last two days in a row I’ve gone out and they’ve been camped out
in the pines, thirty feet up, waiting for my Fred cat. Where’s the fat guy with
the shotgun when you need him? He could probably call those turkeys right to
him and BLAM!

Okay, so we have to be careful. We have no fat guy with a shotgun and the turkeys
know it. I feel like I’m living in Australia surrounded by dingos’ and Olivia
Newton John. And Fred is so pregnant she can’t run fast, so I have been
resorting to turkey raids. I fling open the door, run out and rush at the trees
with the kitchen broom. But I nearly gave the old lady next door a heart
attack and I just couldn’t stand to listen to the turkeys up there in the pines
gobbling at me. It sounded like laughter… Anybody know a fat guy with a
shotgun I could hire??? There’s a free Turkey dinner in it! … Gobble, gobble,
gobble….

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