Many times my mother would see the love birds headed
over the hill, through the snow, to the pond, even when the wind-chill
was below zero. This meant I didn’t have time to dress warmly and run
after them, but rather I had to run out into the cold in whatever I
was wearing at the time. I soon began staying fully and warmly dressed
during all daylight hours. My only relief was at night when all the
birds, including the lovers, were nestled in and sleeping. It never
mattered if it was pouring buckets and buckets of rain, it never
mattered if the snow was blowing. It never mattered if the wind was
howling, wind-chills below zero, and it didn’t even matter when it was
too hot to even breathe. Mister Turkey Goose was more determined than
any postal carrier - he did not care what the weather was, he always
was ready to head to the pond for a dip.
When Saturdays rolled around, that was my chance to go
to town, but before I could go, I had to corral Mister Turkey Goose
and his lovely Missus into their small fenced-in pen. When I suggested
to my folks that we should leave them in their small pen all the time,
I was informed that while penning the two up for a short time was
acceptable, to keep them constantly penned-up in their small yard, was
just cruel. And maybe the next time I decided to fool with Mother
Nature, I would remember this valuable lesson.
My social life was impacted dramatically; sleepovers
were few and far between, unless my friends were staying here with me.
Seldom could I talk my mom or dad into turkey-sitting for me so I
could go off and have fun. My sidekick and partner in crime, Lonesome,
the Bassett Hound, couldn’t understand why we didn’t get to run
through the fields chasing bunnies as often, or head off to the woods
to spend a cool day by the creek. Nor do I think she ever understood
why I would chase that dumb turkey and why wrestling that turkey in
the smelly pond mud was what - to her - seemed like my new favorite
thing to do. But like the faithful buddy she was, she was always with
me, although more than a few times she would look at me with her head
cocked to one side, a bewildered look on her face.
Now, let us not forget there is also a duck who
believes he is a chicken that I had to contend with. Mister Chicken
Duck, or “Chuck”, was not as much trouble as Mister Turkey Goose, but
he had his problems, too. For one, he would pick fights with the big,
bad, mean rooster who was boss over all the chickens. Mister Chuck,
while tough in his own mind, was no match for a big, cocky rooster
with sharp, deadly spurs and the knowledge of how to use them. My
parents again explained to me that since this was my “joke” it was my
job to keep Mister Chuck from fighting and getting hurt. Yeah, that
was an easy one… NOT! Mister Chuck soon found himself a lovely chick
of his own and felt the need to always protect her from the roosters,
which meant constantly picking fights. The fighting was almost nonstop
during egg laying time, how ironic was that? And while egg laying time
for Miss Goose and Mister Turkey Goose meant less swimming time,
Mister Chuck picked up any slack with his fighting.
As a sort of peace gesture for Mother Nature, I
slipped some chicken eggs under Mister Chucks’ woman so they could
hatch out a family and I slipped some goose eggs under Miss Goose so
her and Mister Turkey Goose could also have a family. While these
gestures may or may not have won me any points with Mother Nature, it
did win a few points with my Dad. He offered to help me build a big,
nice pen for Miss Goose and Mister Turkey Goose and family, building
them a cement pond. Big enough for the entire family, including Mister
Turkey Goose, but shallow enough that he couldn’t drown. Mister Turkey
Goose lived happily as a goose for 8 years while Missus Goose lived to
the ripe old age of 11 years, but she never found another boyfriend,
her heart belonged to a goofy turkey who thought he was a goose.
Mister Chuck lived a good long life with his significant other,
learning eventually to steer clear of the rooster bullies, so very
rarely did he encounter the Boss Rooster’s angry spurs.
At the ripe-old age of 12 years, I learned one of life’s most valuable
lessons, which was: think twice about your actions and the
consequences that might come from them; what might seem funny could
possibly end up biting you in the butt.
I also learned that old commercial about fooling Mother Nature was
right on, maybe there weren’t any lightning bolts flying thru the sky,
there were much worse consequences from fooling her: Mother Nature
turned out to be a lot like karma - a bitch when poked. Another lesson
I learned was, in the animal families, looks didn’t matter, family is
family even if your kid looks like the neighbor more than yourself, it
is still your little baby. None of the brothers and sisters ever
doubted whether they were related or not - if you were hatched with
the bunch, you were one of them. Finally, love is blind. It doesn’t
matter that you don’t look like the rest of the flock, it’s how you
see yourself that the ladies will see you. Believe you’re a young,
handsome goose who can swim, the girls will believe you’re a handsome
goose. Even if you’re a duck who could never crow, if you believe
you’re a chicken and you scratch with the chickens, the hens will find
you irresistible.
