Daily Prompt: Good Fences?
by Ben Huberman on February 8, 2014
Who are your neighbors? Are you friends with them, barely say hi, or avoid them altogether? Tell us a story — real or invented — about the people on the other side of your wall (or street, or farm, or… you get the point). Photographers, artists, poets: show us NEXT DOOR.
Around the block is a farm (Ee-i-ee-i-oh!)
Dairy cattle, chickens, fresh milk, eggs, and honey … and friendly farmers.
I love the chickens. They are not all regular chickens. Many are fancy with gorgeous plumage. They are all like pets — friendly. They used to range free, but foxes and coyotes were making inroads so reluctantly, the farmer moved the coops and put up wire enclosures. The chickens have a lot of freedom, but not unlimited range.
The local wild turkeys hang around because the farmer feeds them. They are a pugnacious group. Wild turkeys used to be rare, but in recent years, they strut all over the place without any sign of fear, or for that matter, common sense.
No one hunts them. Unless they get eaten by a coyote, their biggest danger is getting run over by a car or truck. They tie up traffic and refuse to hurry.
Yelling at them to move faster makes them angry and they will challenge your car to a duel. They cross roads with no concern for traffic. If you annoy them further (or even they are in a particularly feisty mood), they will attack your car. They are apparently unconcerned whether or not the car is the likely winner of the dispute.
Although they are good flyers — unlike swans, loons and other large water fowl, they don’t need a long runway to achieve liftoff — it never occurs to them to fly. They prefer to stroll. Strut. It’s hard to rouse them to flight, or even to walk or run faster.
When confronted by overwhelming odds — large motor vehicles or people with shotguns — they cop an attitude: “Oh yeah? Who’s gonna make me?” This has given real meaning to the expression “What a turkey!”
As the old farmer said, “You know, it just takes one tire!” Except, of course, he’s the one who feeds them.
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