In a field just outside Boonsboro, on the left just as I pass Crystal Grottoes, I spot a small flock of wild turkeys. At first they are hard to see, dark spots in the brown soil not so far out from the trees, but as I draw closer they become clear. Four of them. Hard to tell in motion from the road — three look to be female, but might not be. One is unmistakably male.
Bigger than the others, his size further exaggerated by his puffed-out wattle and his fanned tail feathers. He stands a few feet apart from the rest, strutting stiffly on his tiny legs. I wonder if this is where monarchs copied their bearing from. Strutting turkeys and kings have a lot in common. Both are undeniably impressive, and just as undeniably ridiculous.
On the other side of Boonsboro a few minutes later, I pass another interesting scene as I cross a bridge over a small stream. Standing in the water is a goose, cooling off, ruffling his feathers. Unnoticed a few feet behind the goose, crouched and ready to spring at any second, is a cat. Big dark brown barn cat, must be thanking his cat gods for the bounty he is about to receive.
I’m on my way to visit Ashley at work, and there are other cars behind me, so I have no chance to stop. I wish I could have, though. That’s a big cat, but a big goose, too. I wonder how that turned out.