Carving Out Time

I'm feeling the need to find a few moments to slow down a little. This morning I'm sitting on my deck as the sun comes up, watching a cloud bank roll in from the west.

I hear the insects squeaking like violins in the weeds down by the water. I hear a bird call out to its companion, then I hear another bird call back. The soft sun rises ever higher in the sky, revealing itself to be the fireball it truly is.

I hear a train sweetly whistling in the distance. I hear cows calling lowly to each other, far away.

As the sun heats the air, it sends tiny puffs and gusts my way, cooling my face in the sudden new heat. On the other side of me, the wind drives the rain clouds closer, buffeting me gently as well, bits of gusts and breezes kissing me intermittently.

I'm not awakening with screen time, I'm not turning on the television, I'm not staring at my phone. I am centering myself. It will be a busy week, and that's ok. But now, I look at the long shadows cast by the rising sun, and I see a tall version of myself behind me, the folded patio umbrella as tall as a tree in silhouette.

Yesterday, as we sat quietly and talked, a small flock of wild turkeys calmly walked out of the trees and disappeared into the cattails in order to get a drink of water. They were of varying sizes, so it was hard to discern whether they were all from the same family or not. Clearly there were two adults, with their bluish bald heads, and three or four juveniles.

But there was one much smaller chick, doing just fine, holding its own with the group. Could it be some kind of runt from the same clutch, or is it really a much younger turkey with the flock? Perhaps one of the larger birds is another adult on its own, and this is her single chick. I can't say.

But, they happily grazed around, discretely watching for predators, casually picking bugs and grains out of the grass, and then walking around seemingly looking for a new path. They had come from the southeast, and at first it seemed they were going to try and walk around the lake to the northwest. It seemed as though the lead turkey started calculating and decided to take a chance. They would make better time to fly over the lake as a group, rather than walk through the grasses around it. They would be exposed doing so, and the leader would have to act quickly. He seemed to call to the group briefly, and then took off, his big body flapping hard - I'm amazed how strong they are and how fast they can fly for their size. One by one, the other turkeys launched into the air and flew out behind and around him.

To myself I thought, "Oh, the littlest one won't be able to fly yet, they'll have to figure it out and circle back for her and walk after all." But to my surprise, she could fly too, and with no hesitation, cruised right along behind them. Wow, even little turkeys can fly - who knew?

Good luck, little turkey, and Godspeed. Don't let the dogs, the raccoons, the coyotes, or the humans get you. I love you, little feathered dinosaurs. Please come back and see me sometime soon.