Prior to moving to the beautiful city of Miami, I spent a year and a half in Sioux City, Iowa. Also known as Suck City to the locals. I became a vegetarian during my time there. It smelled bad. Really bad and nothing like bacon as I was originally told. It had an odor like a set of nun chucks to the olfactory senses. Also, nothing in the brochures indicated that when it snowed in October, IT DID NOT MELT UNTIL APRIL. This should have been disclosed somewhere. Shame on you Sioux City Chamber of Commerce. Do you see now why I moved to Miami?
My apartment was surrounded by nothing but undeveloped land overgrown with grasses, weeds and all sorts of strange fauna I couldn't identify if you paid me. Paris and I would often walk at night after work (this was prior to Riley joining our pack in June 2009) and at the conclusion of our two mile workout was the uphill 1/2 mile climb back to the apartment complex.
On one such walk in July 2008, Paris started diving into the brush. This was typical bad dog behavior as she searched for discarded candy bar wrappers, fast food items and half empty slushie cups thrown from vehicles ensuring that she would remain sick the rest of the day if she ingested one of these found "treasures." On this morning however, she spent more time than usual searching the brush and had completely disappeared while I held onto the other end of her retractable leash.
She suddenly emerged, quite pleased with herself, and fiercely shaking what looked like a pigeon. I uttered some inappropriate words and managed to get her to drop the poor thing which turned out to be a baby turkey. This is when the first of several bad things occurred - all within about a minute.
1). The brush began to vibrate and started moving in a way not natural to Iowa breezes.
2) I could see tail feathers pop up before my eyes but being a city girl, had no idea what I was looking at.
3) A fireball of feathers flew (yes flew) out of the brush and attached itself to the side of my Dalmatian still pleased with herself over her find.
4) Paris suddenly collapsed to the ground and began to shriek in pain as she wrestled with the strange feathered beast.
5) I, in my infinate wisdom and experience with wildlife, dropped kicked the feather ball from the side of my dog causing her to yelp in even more pain.
6) More than half a dozen turkeys (read: feathered gang members) emerged from the foliage to defend the honor of the Butterball football I had just punted about 10 yards away from me.
7) The gang of turkeys started to ATTACK ME!!!
A kind neighbor sitting by her garage heard the commotion (turkeys are LOUD when they're pissed!) and rushed to my assistance with the only weapon at her disposal. A lawn chair.
She said...and I quote "You go ahead and I'll hold them off!" She was very serious and I was not about to argue.
I reached my building and headed for the vehicle, tossing my dog into my car. As I pulled out of the apartment complex, I watched in terror as my sixty year old neighbor swatted at a dozen or so turkeys (more had joined the ranks of the unruly) with her LAWN CHAIR! Sadly, her grandchildren sat nearby laughing.
As I sat in the vet's office waiting for Paris to get stitched up (sidebar: I did not know turkeys had tallons) I tried to explain how she got her injuries to the vet tech. Who laughed at me. A lot.
Unfortnuately, Paris' stitches re-opened the next day and she had to be taken back to the Vet where by then, the whole staff had heard about the story. I would have thought these people would have seen turkey attacks more frequently but I was wrong.
Paris has fully recovered from her run-in with a gang of turkeys but her story lives on...and now thanks to me, will live on forever in a blog. Best dog mom ever!!!
But we do love a good Thanksgiving turkey...
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