I was on my way back to my quarters this afternoon when I almost got bowled over by a bush turkey that came darting hell for leather around a corner. As I watched him disappear behind a building, I pondered why he was in such a hurry. Then the second turkey came bolting around the corner and stopped just short of colliding with me. He started eying me off, puffing himself up, and strutting back and forth menacingly, like he wanted me to know he wasn't a fowl to be fucked with. It was then that I realised what the first one was running from.
After a few seconds of macho posturing, he cantered off in the direction I was heading. I walked a few paces behind him. Outside my front door, a female turkey sauntered back and forth. "Boys fighting over you, are they luv?" She shot me a quick look in reply, but I didn't really get what it meant—turkeys' facial expressions are notoriously hard to read.
A minute later, I was standing in my kitchenette, waiting for the kettle to boil, and mulling over that indecipherable countenance. I wondered if female animals were 'aware' in any meaningful way that males actively fought over them, and if they felt any kind of emotion over it—one way or the other. What goes on in the mind of a clucky bird?
For a while, I thought about how adorable turkey chicks are, and then I noticed my hand had somehow found its way onto my belly again. I sighed and poured my tea.
Have I mentioned how much I'm looking forward to getting back home?
2 comments :
I think the females might be aware, but also don't care it's happening and don't care much about the outcome either. Unless they mate for life (many birds do), I think they'd care about that.
You also sound clucky. Though that happens to me a lot in the last couple of years, since I can't have kids, I have to content myself with cuddling the babies people kindly keep popping out around me and sighing for what might have been if I'd found out earlier. (this seems even more critical now my sister is dead, though she had six kids, so I'm not feeling bad for her on that score)
With bush turkeys, the male builds a big mound, and then, I think, tries to coax as many females as he can into laying their eggs there.
I have definitely gone clucky. At this point, it's an ongoing war between my body and my brain. I'm not interested in finding myself a bloke; either as a permanent companion; or temporarily, as a vector for conception. Plus, I have all manner of hang-ups about bringing a child into the world, and the million different ways it can end in tragedy.
I am contenting myself with merely being Aunty Alex.
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