It was the perfect Monday morning. Monday is college t-shirt day at my school, meaning I didn’t even have to play Closet Showdown with all my clothes that I currently don’t fit into. I grabbed my jeans and tugged my red alma mater t-shirt over my head. I didn’t even care about my hair because it was going under my bike helmet anyway.
It was such the perfect morning that just as Magnolia True and I were about to turn onto the street my school is on, I Believe in a Thing Called Love by The Darkness came up on my playlist. If there’s a better song to ride to in the morning, I haven’t found it. I push the pedals a little harder and may or may not play air guitar on my handlebars during the guitar solo. I’m less embarrassed about that than I should be, especially since my school is in a suburban neighborhood and I pass scads of parents and students in their cars every morning.
The street my school is on is all downhill on my commute to work. I love this because it means I arrive to work mostly unsweaty and on my way home I stomp the pedals all the way up the hill.
So there I was cruising downhill to school singing along.
“I believe in a thing called love. Just listen to the rhythm of my heart. I believe we can make it, love. We’ll be rockin’ ’til the sun goes do-“
That’s when I saw it.
A turkey.
A giant, wild turkey strutting in a driveway to my right. He was at least as tall as my bike wheels and he was all alone, which as you may have guessed isn’t a sign of a well-balanced turkey.
I believe I’ve mentioned my fear of birds before. So upon seeing this terrifying bird, I let a string of profanity fly. I’ll let you Mad Lib this one and insert your own avalanche of profanity on my behalf here:
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After I said a few choice words, I prayed the turkey wouldn’t see me because a 6 foot tall woman in a bright red shirt blasting The Darkness on a bicycle can be stealthy, right?
Right?
Wrong.
As I passed by the turkey, he looked right at me, a sinister look from the depths of Hades.
“I don’t want any trouble,” I told him as came to be even with driveway that was apparently HIS TERRITORY.
I was riding as far away from the driveway as I could without veering into oncoming traffic, which, in hindsight, may have been preferable to what was about to happen.
The turkey made a beeline for me.
I uttered some more choice words and kicked my pedaling into high gear.
I could hear the turkeys devil claws scrabbling on the asphalt behind me.
I looked back only once.
The bird was gaining on me.
I pedaled harder, sweat dripping down my face, and went into a tuck-which looks absolutely ridiculous on a cruiser bike.
I prayed that the turkey wouldn’t take flight because my bike helmet might stand up to those horrid talons, but surely my red t-shirt wouldn’t.
Did you know that red is known to incite fury in birds? I didn’t find out that useful nugget of information until much later that day.
I ripped down the hill and careened into my school parking lot where I didn’t stop pedaling, not even across the playground, until I reached the safety of my classroom door. My heart was playing a crazy game of Frogger in my chest and my hair, which wasn’t great to begin with, was now a sweaty, sopping mess.
To my great relief, I’d lost the turkey somewhere on the hill. Of equal relief was that I had not peed my pants while he was in pursuit. Small victories.
I haven’t seen the turkey since that day, but I did receive this card a few weeks later from one of my little ones.
The feathers are from a turkey she hunted with her dad. Coincidence? I think not.

Take that, turkey. You’d better think twice before you mess with me. I may be terrified of you, but I know a six-year-old little girl who isn’t. Consider yourself warned.



I’m trying to woo my new bike and what better way to woo than to give her flowers? Yesterday I added flowers to her basket. Yes, the polka dots on the flowers match the polka dots on my bike purse and panniers. The flowers also match the cup holder I’m making, but more on that another day because the cup holder has turned into quite the project and at this current moment in time, it makes me want to say bad words.
