Why did the turkeys cross the road?
How on earth would I know? They aren’t exactly the most brilliant species alive…
Turkeys of course are a reminder of fall, although they abound in this area all through the year. We have even had one wander into our fenced in back yard, barely able to flap itself over the fence and into the neighbor’s domain.
But I have to admit that I am not a lover of autumn. Despite the beauty, for me there is a depressing feeling — of death (albeit leaves, plants and turf) and the idea of the wicked winter just around the corner. I don’t mind the winter, once it has arrived. But the ominous feeling of a chill in the air — that in between feeling, is what gets to me.
Perhaps as the psychologists think, it all reverts back to childhood — with little Steve proclaiming his disbelief in gods, and unwillingness to attend synagogue on the Jewish High Holidays. The truth is, I don’t really know why, but I succumb to a general uneasiness that sets in every fall.
So to counter the sinking feeling, here are a few (iPhone-quality) pictures of my favorite nearby weekend haunt, Lake Zorinsky in Omaha.
I love wild turkeys. Don’t see them enough, but they do live in Southern Ontario, having been re-stocked after being pretty much hunted out. I did see one fly straight up into a very tall tree to roost once, making a tremendous clatter as it did so.
I get what you say about fall… something melancholy in the air.
You’ve nailed it exactly — melancholy in the air!
As for the turkeys — there are occasional traffic jams as they wander across a street and just “hang and gobble out!”
We sometimes see wild turkeys in our backyard, too!
And actually, I love the melancholy “in-between” feeling of fall.
Bloody optimists!
I don’t feel the melancholy too much – I seem to pick up more on the “back-to-school” sense of purpose in the air. It helps that we’re having the driest, sunniest September and October in recent memory around here – it’s absolutely gorgeous!
While I type this, our basement suite tenant has a turkey in the oven and the smells (and the sounds of gravy-making technique-based arguments with his mum) are wafting up through the air vents. Our turn tomorrow… happy Canadian Thanksgiving!