A Nefarious Gang Stalks My House

This fine cool fall-ish morning I took my usual sojourn to Starbucks for fancy coffee (because I work from home full time now, and sometimes that’s my only outing of the day. Hey, I shower every day and wear not-pajamas for this gig, and I’m still saving money by not
commuting…oh stop judging me).

Anyway, when I got home in my quiet little townhouse neighborhood it looked like usual ghost-town. All the other adults have gone to work or (those few at home) were holed up in their houses doing whatever stay-at-homers do all day. Teenagers aren’t up roaming the neighborhood yet because sleeping in before school starts is REALLY important. Littler kids are either off at daycare or inside with the stay-at-homers doing whatever they do early in the morning.

And then I saw THEM.

Did you know my house is relatively close to a golf course AND a large not-groomed park (meaning, no paved paths, mostly just lovely dark woods)? Did you know such features encourage wildlife, for which I’m generally grateful, but occasionally less so? This area also houses a roving gang of ne’r-do-wells who regularly cause traffic jams and give you birdy evil-eye while you wait impatiently for them to saunter across the road at their own ridiculously slow pace.

Fucking turkeys.

Yeah. Got out of my car this morning and the Feathered Jets were wandering about in the grass the lawnservice dudes didn’t bother to mow well this week, so presumably they’re full of tasty bug things.

Two members of the Feathered Jets.
No, I wasn’t about to get CLOSER. 

I hate turkeys, except on my plate. They’re mean. I wrote about it once before…seems worth reposting here today. In the meantime, I made it into the house before the stupid dinosaur descendants saw me.

Vengeful Turkey

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