About a few months ago, a coworker came up to me and asked, “Have you seen it yet?” Confused, I asked “what?” She said, “the wild turkey!” My mind automatically drifted to Thanksgiving Day 2002 at Doc and Carol Burkle’s house. I remembered walking around asking family members if they wanted some Turkey. When someone said yes, I went to the freezer, grabbed the bottle of ice-chilled Wild Turkey whiskey, put it on the table, and set up two shots. We toasted the Turkey and followed it up with a little “Gobble, Gobble” as our pseudo rite of passage, our ticket to the meal. The Gods be damned if you or anyone eating Thanksgiving dinner at Doc and Carol’s pass up a little taste of the Turkey! I was drunk before dinner, so… “Yes, I have seen the Wild Turkey!” But, No, my coworker was not talking about booze. She was referring to a beast of a different kind. Supposedly, there was actually a wild turkey roaming the office parking lot.
Let me explain how strange of a concept this was for me to understand. My office in Pleasanton, California is located in the exact opposite of a rural area where you would expect to see the creatures. It’s jammed in the corner of a major highway intersection and next to a large indoor shopping mall. How could there be turkeys in the parking lot? It made no sense to me, so I dismissed it as one of those “whatever” concepts.
About a month later, I heard of another turkey sighting in the lot, and then another in the same day. The following day, a coworker was explaining how the turkey had matched every move she made while trying to leave the parking lot the night before thus temporarily preventing her escape from the office. Sitting at my desk in slight disbelief over the three new sightings, I received an e-mail from my boss with the subject of “Turkey at the office.” With the thought of this mythical parking lot turkey back in my head, I opened the e-mail and the attached photo. There it was, this magnificent creature, as if a tiny island in a sea of asphalt. I then imagined its standoff with my coworker and laughed almost uncontrollably at the stupidity of her situation.
I came to accept the possibility of encountering the turkey, and agreed with myself that things would be ok if ever the situation occurred. After all, I am Billy B: Friend of Animals and Inspiration to All. Well, at least that is my title in some circles. In others I go by Blackfish, or The Black Reaper, or even Chopsticks Burkle. At the moment our eyes connect, the turkey and I will come to an unspoken agreement of peace, harmony, and free passage in and out of the parking lot. However, since my paranoia only allowed me to believe about 65% of this theory, I decided to start parking closer to the building rather than near the outskirts where most of my coworkers parked and where attacks were more likely. Ultimately, I was wrong and one horrific incident changed my life completely.
One evening in early April, I stepped out of the office after a long day of grueling battles with the auditors, or essentially the vultures at work who tear off meat from the dry dusty bones that are my sanity. The cool spring air felt so refreshing and breathed just enough life into me to help me begin my journey home. I saw a lady walking through the parking lot and hoped she did not suck in any of this exhilarating air. I turned my head from the lady toward the mall and thought about how I wished Rachel and Mike still lived in Pleasanton. If I said it was because I was eager for Rachel to go to the pool with me for masters swim, I would be lying. No, I really wished they lived here so we could go to Cheesecake Factory because, to be honest with you, I was in the mood for lettuce wraps, hand-made guacamole and chocolate chip cookie dough cheesecake.
Mmmm… Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough Cheesecake…
Suddenly, I heard a blood-curdling scream and my mind shot from fantasy to fear! I jolted my head up so fast I nearly gave myself whiplash. The woman I had seen in the lot – middle-aged, possibly a mother of three, mole on her arm and cankles… not quite my type – was standing next to her BMW screaming as if she had seen the Devil himself, or worse, Pennywise the Clown. Man! I hate clowns. I believe if it were demons or goblins, my skills and training would have been better suited for this fight. Every morning I go through my mental checklist of battle preparedness: salt in my trunk for epic demon battles - check; silver chain around my neck to help defeat the goblin hordes - check; various symbols and household items to ward off vampires, ghosts, and Sasquatch - check. Nonetheless, I was not quite ready to do battle with a creature of this magnitude. This foe was far more fearsome than any I had ever confronted during my journeys with Sammy and Dean or the cast of Supernatural. The nemesis getting ready to pounce on this poor woman was the grandest wild turkey I had ever seen. When I say “grandest,” I don’t mean this turkey was the size of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade Turkey, but it was damned close.
My immediate fight or flight reaction was to turn my big ass around and run back into the office squealing. Get away, and get away fast, I thought, that turkey looks pissed! And, pissed-off turkeys are bad… MmmK. But the damned hero inside of me, that tiny, tiny voice that said, “You must do something, Blackfish! You must help the woman even though she has a mole!” prevailed over instinct. Completely conscious and reluctant, I slid my backpack off my shoulder, dropped it to the ground, and sprinted toward the woman hoping the gods would guide my actions once I got close to the gobbler.
The incredible beast crouched and was about leap when I rushed in from out of nowhere like Tarrence Tate, Office Linebacker, and sacked the woman pulling her out of harm’s way. As we fell to the ground, I pulled the lady close to me, turned my right shoulder and back toward the pavement, and executed a ninja roll. I popped up to my feet with her in my arms and realized my ninja roll was quite exquisite because the woman had not touched the ground at all. I’m a total bad ass! The woman and I turned around to see the turkey pulling itself out of the twisted metal heap that used to be her BMW. Ze Germans might be able to make a car that can handle on rails, but not one that can handle getting t-boned by a giant turkey. The car looked like something that had almost won the Vigo County fair demolition derby, but had to break its stick just before the end.
As the turkey regained its bearings, with the woman still in my arms, I sprinted to the passenger side of my high-performance vehicle, the Chevy Impala – It’s a pretty sweet ride. I just fill up with regular and drive her like a racecar. I threw the woman inside the Impala and slammed the door. When I turned to face the beast, we met eye-to-eye. Well, actually it was more like his eyes to my belly, but you get the point.
I felt a sharp jab in my stomach. The grand gobbler had lunged directly into center mass. He recoiled back, then came in again with another blow. There was no way I would allow myself to become a punching back for this fowl creature, so I did what any intelligent man would do in a similar situation. I ran. I ran like the wind. There’s no point to being a four-time triathlete and finisher of over 12 endurance events if I can’t put my skills to use as a superhero every day. I ran circles around my high-performance Impala. The gobbler could not catch me, but unfortunately, a man well over three hundred pounds can only elude a crazed monster turkey for so long before side pains and hyperventilation consume all thought.
I kept running knowing if I didn’t somehow out-smart the beast, he would resume the head-butts and pecking until I lay a bloody corpse on the ground. My mind flashed back to childhood when I watched Bo and Luke Duke run from Boss Hog and Roscoe P. Coltrane. One of them would jump into the passenger window of General Lee while the other would slide across the hood and get into the driver’s seat, then they would both ride off into the sunset. With Cankles in the passenger seat already, I decided I would be the one who slides across the hood of the high-performance Impala, jumps into the driver’s seat, and gets both the woman and myself safely away from the rampaging turkey.
As I came around the passenger taillight, I didn’t cut hard left the same way I had done so many times before. I think this would be the thirtieth time I tried this maneuver, but being a little rusty caused me to miss my cue. Let’s face it… I may be graceful and almost fish-like in the water. On a bike, I can handle a lot once I get the legs pumping. However, on my feet, I am definitely not fleet-footed. Along with the combination of about a half-inch vertical leap, I highly doubted my plan would work. In fact, I knew it was absolute CRAZY TALK, but I had to do something. With the turkey now on my heels, I made the jump near the hood of the high-performance Impala. The brutal crash into the front fender knocked me straight back onto my ass. Instead of the ground, however, my mass and gravity quickened my fall directly on top of my worth foe.
I heard a gnarly splat and crunch upon impact, and called in the reserves to help me keep the bile from coming up. Imagine the biggest roach you have ever seen. Then, think about smashing him under your shoe. Imagine the sound, the splatter, the crunch that it makes as everything that is the roach, including its soul, is destroyed. I lay there looking at the sky, thinking that underneath me there was nothing but a pile of broken bones and turkey flesh. The sensation that overpowered all other thought was relief. I was relieved because now that I had crushed this giant turkey under my girth. It was over… The nightmare was over… The chase was over and I had saved that woman and her mole. The three kids she may or may not have had would be able to see their mother again. I had out-run and out-witted the wild turkey. I lay gasping for breath. Thinking that maybe, just maybe the Gods didn’t hate me. That maybe just maybe, I was going to get out of this in one piece.
CLICK, CLICK, CLICK…
CLICK, CLICK, CLICK… I had heard that sound before. But, where had I heard it? My mind raced. That click, that tapping sound in sets of three. It sounded so evil. Why did it sound so familiar? It sounded like a Velociraptor; the dinosaur so rightly given the name “bird of prey” which tormented Jeff Goldblum in one of my favorite movies of all time, Jurassic Park. When I tried pulling myself up, I was frozen by the new wave of horror that washed over me.
Losing control of every muscle in my body, I flopped to the right. When I next opened my eyes, I saw a foot which resembled the Velociraptor so much it made me scream. I screamed with whatever air I had left in me from the first chase. When I finished screaming like a teenage girl in the latest and greatest slasher flick, I opened my eyes again to see an even larger turkey than the sack of flesh and broken bones pancaked under my fat ass…
CLICK, CLICK, CLICK
Then again, CLICK, CLICK, CLICK
…Somewhat regaining my senses, I surveyed my escape route to see three more giant gobblers. They were surrounding me in each direction, and one of them was getting ready to lunge off the hood of my high-performance Impala.
So many things ran through my head. I should have run back into the office. Damn the Blackfish inside of me! I could not believe I was about to have my ass handed to me by poultry. The very creatures I consumed on a regular basis were now about to get their revenge. Whether it be ground, roasted, fried, or alive, my previous thoughts of how I would die never involved a turkey. My beautiful and youthful body and face were going to be pecked to shreds by these damn things, and I realized I had to move quickly. It was going to take every ounce of my stoogely cunning to get out of this mess.
The superbly executed ninja roll I had performed earlier then came to mind. That’s right! I’m a ninja! The training I received from Master Krug in Koto, Japan earlier this year caused that ninja roll to occur like a reflex. Fear must have caused the rest of my ninja knowledge to cower into the back corner of my mind. I could not let Master Krug down by getting worked over by these four turkeys. That was no way for a ninja to die! I forced myself to rock backward then pop up onto my feet. I gripped the smashed turkey underneath me and twirled it around as if it were nunchakus. As the four other turkeys closed in on me, I did another ninja roll to break their circle. If I had to fight four cunning birds, I could not let them get behind me.
The turkey on the hood, which appeared to be the leader, snapped at me and dropped from the car. He and the other three lined up and began walking toward me. I had to do something unexpected, something to throw these smart bastards off balance. I struck out quickly with the dead gobbler in my hand and slapped each turkey in the face. I quickly did a third ninja roll to get back between them and my high-performance Impala. They each perked their heads up looking confused. I wasn’t sure if they could tell, but I was just as confused because I was now fresh out of ideas. I would have to engage these bastards Mano-a-Birdo.
Just then, I heard something up in the sky. It was something I could not believe, something so shocking yet so wonderful to my ears. I listened again…
“AFFFFFFFFFFFFFFLLLLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACCCC!!!!”
It echoed so sweetly in my ears. I knew the Gods had not yet forsaken me. Out of the sky came a swarm of ganders the likes I had never seen, and they were led by my former enemy turned ally, GOOSE. Yes, that goose from the Story of the Goose and its follow-up, the Lost Story of the Goose. They came sweeping in much like eagles at the end of Return of the King and smashed head first into the turkeys. The battle had begun and I knew it would be a battle written in bird history books everywhere, a battle comparable to Bull Run and Normandy.
At this point, the lady got out of my high-performance Impala to watch the incredible turkey bashing. She was stunned unable to believe she had been saved by a flock of geese. Goose flew in close and landed in front of me. He looked over to the carnage in the parking lot, then turned back toward the lady and me.
“Aflac,” he said.
I nodded and said back to him, “Aflac.”
“You be wanting to get her out of here now. This is no place for a lady,” he said flipping his beak toward the lady.
“But Goose, the is now twice you have saved me. I cannot let you continue fighting my battles for me. I…”
“AFLAAAC!!” he squawked. “Your battle lies not here with crude animals. Your battle is another one. It is a fight that has not been won, a fight you must return to now. Leave these to me.”
“But Goose,” says I.
“But nothing. Go now. You must go now. This is going to get ugly.”
He fixed me with a hard look. He understood that I wanted to help, but I could sense that he was right. This had to be a battle between the birds. I shook my head and cast my eyes down. The dead turkey slipped from my hand. I asked the lady to get back in the high-performance Impala, then Goose spoke again.
“Hey, Kid!” he said flipping his beak in the general direction of my car with the lady now sitting inside. “Nice Rack!”
The lady and I looked at each other, then I glanced down thinking, well, yeah, but she has a huge mole. I turned back to Goose with a shocked expression. He knew what I was thinking, so he replied, “Not THAT Rack!” Turning his beak to the top of my car, he said, “That one!” It was the Thule bike rack that El Beaver Grande and I had mounted up there three years ago. I grinned like a school boy and said, “Yes, Goose, it is a nice rack.” We nodded once again to each other. I closed the lady’s door then ran around to the driver’s side. I jumped into the high-performance Impala and drove out of the parking lot like a bat out of hell…
