Catootes: flight of the...turkey

When I shove that naked plump bird into the oven on Thanksgiving, I will be grinning widely and likely to cackle like that crazy witch in the old Bugs Bunny cartoon when she needed a rabbit for her secret potion.

Presenting Witch Hazel!(image courtesy of wikipedia)

On a side note, how freaking cool is it that I can type “witch in bugs bunny cartoons” into a Google search and up pops this?

Fucking Brilliant. I love the Internet and all its assorted usefulness. That is the euphoric look I will wear as the skin turns golden and the smell of roast turkey permeates the air. I got some payback to deliver.

Because Turkeys, the wild kind, must be dumber than dirt. You know the ones I’m talking about. The black ones that skulk around woodland floors, gobbling about in the early morning and late afternoons. The polygamist males, strutting their fancy wattles and feathers, routinely prance about, as I drive to and from work, sniffing to hook up with some fat female turkey.

Yes, these things.

(image courtesy of wikipedia)

Last November, we took a late fall vacation up in the Pocono’s. It was one of those beautiful autumn days where the sun was shining, the air was crisp but not too chilled and the leaves were in the last vestiges of fall glory and falling like giant jeweled snowflakes.

Giggles & I were heading up, just us two girls, tooling up the secondary highway, singing loudly with Taylor Swift. I began noticing an abundance of fowl, pecking away at whatever the hell these things eat. Small flocks of 5 and more interspersed along the sides of the road. It was turkey-hunting heaven, I swear. Had I been a hunter I might have been salivating from all the available pickings. Turkey Convention! Every so often the unfortunate remains of the bird that did not cross at the light was plastered on the road, feathers everywhere.

Suddenly one of those big ass birds hovering along the side of the road spread its wings and began to take flight. With light speed OH SHIT! awareness, I knew we were cruising at just over 60 mph, there was a car behind and coming along side us. There was nowhere to go and that bird’s trajectory put it smack into my windshield. I yelled at Giggles to duck down, wrapped my fingers tight to the wheel and did what any sane rational woman would do when she's about to have a high-speed impact with a fat fowl, I held on tight, closed my eyes and steered straight.

***CRASH!!****

Bits of glass and other assorted things rained all over me and I opened my eyes quickly to assess how bad the situation was.

Calling out to Giggles, I asked if she was okay. A shaky voice said okay. And I breathed a sigh of relief.

And realized the windshield was still in one piece. As was the passenger side window. Still there was glass and bits of car all over me. And feathers were floating in the front seat, along the dashboard. WTF?

Giggles chimed in from the backseat claiming there was glass all over her lap and in her hair.

Glancing around frantically trying to identify the source of the glass, I noticed gobs of turkey smear on the window. Eeeeewwwww,Yuck!

Which helped me notice that the passenger side mirror was dangling from the car by a wire. Literally, one wire was holding it in place. The entire guts of that mirror were gone. Imploded into the car’s interior when the turkey slammed into it, wattle first.

This is sort of what it looked like in the moment before I closed my eyes. Except it was coming at me, not flying by.