The Great Turkey Caper

I was listening to the Sunday news while sipping my morning tea and scrolling through Facebook. I heard something about a bunch of turkeys escaping, but I wasn't really paying attention. Glancing up, I noticed the cats were really interested in something outside the front window. I heard a strange noise and decided to investigate.

At least a dozen turkeys were parading out in the front yard, and what a ruckus they were making, scratching in the flower beds, jumping on the bushes, all the while making an ungodly noise. Were these the escaped turkeys? Was there a reward? I quickly searched for any mention of them on Facebook and found an article just posted by the news station. There was a number to call, which I copied down. I dialed the number.

“Are you missing some turkeys?” I inquired.

“Yes, we had thirteen of them escape from our farm overnight,” was the anxious reply.

“Well, I have at least a dozen out in my front yard. The address is 352 State Street. Come pick them up,” I told them.

Twenty minutes later, an old gray Chevy pick-up truck pulled into my driveway. Two men wearing denim overalls got out and proceeded to chase the turkeys back and forth across the yard. It was quite entertaining, just as they were about to grab a bird, it would slip away. At one point the turkeys seemed to be chasing the men. I couldn't blame the turkeys, I wouldn't want to be anyone's Thanksgiving dinner either. After about two hours, the men had only succeeded in capturing nine of the turkeys. Giving up, they climbed into their truck and drove away. What was I supposed to do with four turkeys in my front yard?

I went outside and tried to shoo them away. That didn't work. I dialed “911” and explained the situation, but they said there was nothing they could do. I figured shooting a gun off in the subdivision would be frowned upon. The turkeys stayed, roosting in the magnolia tree, eating bird seed from the feeder.

A week later a county sheriff's deputy pulled into the driveway. He got out looked around, then walked to my door and rang the bell. Perplexed, I answered the door.

“Can I help you?” I asked.

“Mam, do you know there is an ordinance against keeping turkeys in this neighborhood?” he proceeded to tell me.

I was flabbergasted!

“Those aren't my turkeys!” I assured him.

“Well, they seem to be quite at home here. We have had complaints. I'm going to have to write you a citation,” he continued.

“But they aren't mine! These are some of the escapees from the turkey farm last week,” I argued.

“If that is true, why didn't you call the farm to have them picked up?” he countered.

“I did, they came out, but didn't take them all!” I was becoming frustrated.

“So you took these as a reward? It doesn't matter how you acquired them, you can't keep them here, mam,” he informed me.

“I'm not keeping them here!!” I yelled, pushing him in frustration.

I was immediately arrested, hand-cuffed, my rights read and put into the back of the cruiser. As we backed out of the driveway, the turkeys came congregated on the front lawn, taunting me.