I am ever thankful for our “new” old home, but every now and then I think about the house we spent the last 24 years in. We lived in a very convenient part of the city- close to all major freeways – a plethora of ethnic restaurants – a great art community and the home of the Johnson Street Turkeys.
This flock had grown from a few scrawny birds into a thriving hoard of healthy, sumptuous looking, glorious looking turkeys that would grace any Thanksgiving table. This year our neighborhood is lacking such luxurious birds. However, I am thankful that they no longer peck their way through my cocoa mulch or leave a trail of feathers behind them.
Once, as my husband was driving past the butcher shop, he noticed one of the turkeys had strayed from the flock and was laying close to the railroad track. He also saw one of the butchers, from said butcher shop, running towards it with meat cleaver in hand. Fortunately the bird lived to see another day, as he rose from the deepness of sleep and took off just in time.
These birds were written about in the local newspaper. They had become quite the item. It was said they knew how to cross the street on the traffic light, which I didn’t really believe, but stranger things have happened in the city. They often were seen racing after a mail or garbage truck or scaring the bejeebers out of some kid on his way to school.
The Johnson Street Turkeys often seemed to move out of the neighborhood during Thanksgiving week. Apparently, being city birds, they were very street smart. As time goes by and we become more accustomed to our new “old” house, I expect to see a little more wildlife in the community. Of course I now live in the Halloween Capitol of the World. Maybe that’s not such a good thing.