No birds were injured during the incidents detailed in this authentic account.
If someone had informed me three weeks earlier that a portion of my spring break would involve dashing through the forest at full speed with a turkey in close pursuit, I would likely have dismissed it as unbelievable.
I might have entertained the idea that my companion would pivot with my walking stick to fend off the bird while exclaiming phrases like “en garde!” and “away with thee!” but that scenario seems more like a theatrical commentary than a plausible reality.
One of my lifelong aspirations is to explore every National Park in the United States. During spring break, I had the opportunity to check one off the list following a road trip to Cuyahoga Valley National Park. Situated in northern Ohio, the park is truly stunning, and the weather during our visit was ideal.
We lodged at a campground within the park named “Valley Overlook,” a modern structure on historic grounds that I wholeheartedly recommend for a visit. However, what I would advise against is encountering the turkey.
According to the campground owner, the site is named after a picturesque view overlooking the valley. We were close to reaching the overlook after trekking up a few steep inclines and along a meandering path.
Suddenly, I had to halt in my tracks. A turkey was standing merely 10 to 15 feet away. It’s worth mentioning that I’ve never been particularly fond of birds, especially larger ones (No offense intended, Big Bird, I was a dedicated Sesame Street fan).
Typically, one would assume that a turkey on a trail would amble away as we approached. However, that was not the case.
Instead, this feathered creature took an interest in us, puffing up its feathers and advancing towards us. Instinctively, I turned to walk away, expecting the bird, whom I now humorously refer to as Tom the Terror, to veer off. Yet, he matched our pace as we quickened our steps. The faster we walked, the faster he followed.
As we broke into a sprint, so did he.
This 40-pound bundle of feathers and animosity was belting out what I can only describe as the anthem of his species, a far cry from the traditional “gobble,” as he chased us through the woods.
At this juncture, my companion requested my walking stick, which I handed over like a baton in a relay race, and continued running. Their strategy seemed to involve defense through bewilderment and surprise rather than aggression.
Amidst the chaos, I was bewildered by a medley of theatrical phrases that could rival a local theater production of Hamlet and the shrill gobble of a creature that could outshine most politicians in a contest of wrinkled appearances.
To cut a long story short, we never reached the overlook. I’m sure it offers a breathtaking vista, but that evening, my priority was ensuring that the tent was securely zipped up. One can never be too cautious when it comes to the potential threats lurking in the wilderness.