Jive Turkey

I got busted on Wednesday.

For looking at turkeys.

You see, it was really all very innocent.

I always take the back roads to take TFYO to school, because then I avoid most of the school bus routes. The roads are paved, but not marked. It's mostly farm land and trailers, very quiet, very little traffic. It's perfect.

So, I was winding my way back home from dropping off TFYO, past the local peanut farm, when I saw a small head poke out of the grass alongside the road about 30 feet or so in front of my car. I slowed down, thinking it was someone's cat or dog, since they all let them run loose here.

Imagine my surprise when a wild turkey emerged. Followed by another. Then another. Ten turkeys all told parading across this little country lane. Naturally, I stopped the car, since I'd already almost collided with a deer last week. I didn't think a bunch of turkeys would do my little station wagon any better.

And it was kind of fun watching them. I'd never seen wild turkeys up close before, so I just pulled over to the side, and watched them pick their way into the grass on the other side of the road. They're quite dumb, really. You'd think they would have run away from my car. I could have had a gun.

But I suppose they were clever enough, as they did scatter quickly when a car carrying a man with a gun pulled up behind me.

I looked in my rear view mirror, and there was an Effingham County sheriff's deputy walking up to my car, hand on his pistol.

I rolled down the window.

"Hands on the wheel, please, ma'am."

I complied.

"Are you okay, ma'am?"

"Um, yes, sir."

"Can I ask why you're stopped here?"

"I was just looking."

"Looking?"

"At...turkeys, sir." I scrunched up my eyes, not wanting to look at him.

"Turkeys. Where are they now?"

"They scattered when you drove up. There's a couple over there."

"Turkeys." I looked at him out of the corner of my eye, and he had his head in his hand. He shook his head.

"Ma'am, please remember to use your four-way flashers next time you stop." He started to walk back to his car. And I called after him.

"Don't you want to see my license or registration or anything?"

He waved his hand over his shoulder, and just kept shaking his head, trudging slowly back to his cruiser. I felt bad for him. He probably thought he'd found a mobile meth lab, or a prostitution ring among the peanuts, or at the very least a stolen mom-mobile.

But instead he found me, the stupid Yankee woman who'd never seen wild turkeys before. I imagine it was probably a rough day back at the station for him that afternoon.