OCTOBER 17, 2020 – Yesterday, as I drove through the countryside to get to the Red Cabin, I thought about the state of our country. While driving deeper into despair, I saw a rafter of wild turkeys feeding off leftover grain in a harvested field. This prompted an idea . . .
What if I became a turkey for a day—and kept intact my existing brain? I could function as a turkey but also observe, think, and take mental notes (for an Atlantic article, I imagined) as a human.
“Just think,” I said to self, “if you could strut, gobble, and go eye-ball-to-eye-ball with other turkeys. You could peck around on the ground for loose grain and think to yourself as a human, ‘Gosh, but this is pretty much the weirdest experience I’ve ever had outside a dream!’ In anticipation of the Atlantic gig, you could conduct some fascinating experiments, starting with interviews of real turkeys.
“Hey, fellas!” I’d say. “I’m new to this neck of Turkeyland. The name’s Tom, just like all of you, ha-ha!”
After grabbing their attention by a slap of the thigh bone, I’d continue: “I got some questions—if anyone’s game . . . oops! Sorry. Bad word choice. Anyone interested?”
Realistically speaking, however, instead of any kind of cordial or intelligent response, I’d get the ol’ turkey eye and a shake of the snood. But I’d use good ol’ journalistic persistence. “Okay, got it. You’re all living in the moment. All you can think about is your next kernel of corn, your next germ of wheat. Let me be more direct: Ya wanna see your name in November’s issue of Atlantic? Then talk to me—now . . . before . . . do you have any clue what else happens in November?”
As I sped past another billboard-sized Trump sign, I realized that though I’d be talking “turkey,” it’d be beyond the cognitive grasp of a bunch of . . . turkeys. It’d be nearly impossible to provide any meaningful insights for Atlantic readers. All that I’d be able to say about turkeys is that they’re just a bunch of turkeys.
In slowing down for Comstock, WI, I developed the bright (human) idea of the reverse perspective. What if I wrote an article about humans from the turkey perspective? As a turkey who knows what turkeys humans are, I could provide a compelling story for humans to feed on.
Interviews in this part of America—where everyone talks turkey—would be easy. The challenging part would be to get the interviews. I mean, even the occasional farmer sporting a BIDEN-HARRIS sign would be taken aback by a turkey knocking on the door. Who in these parts doesn’t use a firearm? And who wouldn’t use one on a turkey acting out human instincts?
I decided being a turkey with journalistic aspirations was a turkey-brained idea. Better to be a human and gobble about something other than turkeys. After all, it’s still October.
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© 2020 by Eric Nilsson
