Seasonal Confusion

For the last few days as I have driven in to work, there has been a rafter of turkeys waddling about amongst the stubs of dry cornstalks in the barren fields on Buffalo Road. For some reason, their presence seems incongruous to me, having always equated them with harbingers of autumn, not announcers of spring. Where are the robins that ought to be chirruping in this newly greening season?



The turkeys are persistent if anything, daily staking their claim to the grubs, ladybugs and big black ants that are beginning to make appearances here and there, including the inside of my apartment. Before, when I have seen this particular group of gobblers, I have only seen skinny guinea hen shaped bodies strutting about. I thought that if they became riled, they would unfold their tails like a peacock to transform into the Pilgrim's Thanksgiving poster bird.

Today I saw the poster bird himself standing in the midst of the field, rotund and poofey tailed, just like I have always seen them in pictures. I realized for the first time that the toms, the males, are the ones with the big auras. The skinny minnies are the females that make up most of the flock. One kingpin, fifty trotters. Not bad odds for the kingpin I suppose, but I wonder where he has been hiding.

I shake my head at the thought of a turkey becoming the welcome symbol for spring. But I wish them well. May they enjoy not only a buggy spring but a whole summer of sumptuous dining. Perhaps, like the corn that will sprout over summer, they will fatten up in prediction of a bountiful harvest (as well as a bug free environment). I suppose an autumnal symbol has to start somewhere.

Meanwhile, I continue to keep my eyes peeled for those robins. Perhaps they are trying to tell us that this faux summer weather is a ruse to lull us into breaking out our shorts and sunglasses long before we should. With today's rain, even the earthworms, tempting robin fare, are roaming about. Can the red breasts be far behind?