Sunday, November 03, 2013

Turkey Savasana

I was savasana.  Prone but 180 degrees not prone.  Looking at the sky.  Thinking, "Do turkeys fly?"

And about that moment, not a moment too soon or a moment too later, I observed a whooshing quite close to my closed eyes.  More of a flap-flapping than a whoosh.  A whoosh would have been a swan or a goose (Canadian, probably.) or an errant Frisbee.

But, no this was definitely a flap-whoosh.

I cocked an eye, always wanting to cock an eye and having no idea what "cocking an eye" actually meant, other that it didn't involve a cock - of any kind.

Anyway, I squinted as best I could and saw a small bird about the size of a Tyson chicken flapping overhead at full speed.

Without thinking I uttered a, "What ho!" at the errant avian and to my surprise he stopped mid-air and hovered.

"What ho, yourself!" he squawked from overhead.

"Where do you go, my little Tyson morsel, er, my little drumbstick?"

The bird examined me closely and confided, "I'm testing the escape route," pointing to the red comb attached to his beak, "Turkey disguise."

Oh, I thought, very effective, just like a very small turkey.

The bird continued, "Tyson doesn't do turkeys.  We've spent months working on this disguise.  I'm the first over the wall."

"Well, you fooled me," I lied and the little chicken flapped his wings even harder, looked pleased and zoomed into the sunset.

Later that month I observed thousands of turkey-disguised chickens winging their way to freedom.  And to this day I wonder where they went and what was their fate.

May I ever know?

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