Go Pluck Yourself!

I've often asked my friends if truly odd things happen to me or if it's just my impression of the world that makes everything seem so odd. Most of them say it's just me and my view.

I'm not sure I agree.

Because seriously weird shit happens to me. Routinely. 

I don't consider myself a runner.  But, staggerer doesn't sound that great... I don't love running. I don't hate it either. What I do love is alone time. With music. That I like. This morning there was a break in the weather. Almost 50 degrees, no rain. I'm headed out.

Gear on, headphones in, Nike running app started.

Stretch in the driveway, head up Cedar St. 

Nike voice says, "beginning workout". "Running with the Devil" by Van Halen starts. Oh yeah. 

What the Hell? Coming toward me like a little gang - three chickens and a turkey. 

Run! Run for freedom!

First thought. Run little guys! Run for freedom! Five days to Thanksgiving and they've escaped. I'd like to think they tunneled out using some truly complicated plan while whistling the theme from 'The Great Escape'. But, really, I don't want them to get run over. After an awesome escape it would be a big bummer to get flattened by a car.

I put my hands out and got in my 'get the calves in the pen' stance.

Pausing work out.

The turkey comes toward me.

Come on guys, get out of the street. 

The chickens started first. Moving faster than you'd expect.

Hey man, be cool. 

The turkey charged and grabbed my shoelace. Okay, this is funny. 

Dude, I'm a vegetarian. Be cool, man.

I juked to the side to get away.

Resuming workout. 

This turkey is crazy. He opens his wings a bit and speeds up as I back away.

Hey man, where do you live? Come on, I'll help you.

He lunged again. This time at my knee cap. It's not that it's painful, but it's not pleasant either. I'm more worried that he'll damage my running tights. Nike, of course.

Pausing workout.

Listen asshole. I'm trying to help you. (Oh my God. I just called a turkey an asshole. On Cedar Street.)

He continues to peck at my knees. I pushed him back. And that's when he went for my hand. Chomping and trying to shake it - like a dog. The chickens are now wound up and running in circles, loudly cheering on their turkey friend, who I've now determined is some sort of 'roided up Foster Farms escapee.

Forget it man. I turn and leave them on their own. 

Resuming workout.

Come at me! This time I have a car!

Halfway down the block I turn and look back. They are right behind me. Barely off my ankles. They're lucky that I'm more Aileen Henley than Dorothy Henley. Dorothy would have rung some necks and planned a delicious meal. 

Hours after my run, shower and lunch they're still roaming around about a block away. He's tasted how delicious a vegetarian is and wants more.

I'm pretty sure.