N.B. At the time of this writing, I was a widow living with my adopted Bichon-poodle, Cakes, in Ojai, in a marvelous studio apartment (converted two-car adobe-tiled garage) cum walled garden.
A View from 14 years ago: Tuesday, June 15, 2010
I was in the laundry folding towels (the laundry is on the other side of my garden wall so that the steamy whooshings from the dryer vent moisten the air around my orchids) when I heard Cakes barking barking BARKING BARKING. When we’re on a walk, Cakes barks at other dogs and bicycles, but she’s well-behaved at home and is silent when I leave her. So I couldn’t imagine what all this racket was about — surely not my having left her alone in the garden for three minutes.
Finally, her barking was so LOUD AND URGENT — full-throated, insistent — that I left the laundry (I later discovered a bath towel half-folded under my arm) and went around to my garden gate.
“What on earth, Cakes?” I said to her as I opened the gate.
She was looking up to the top of the garden wall — the wall facing the meadow with the walnut trees — barking barking BARKING!
I followed the line of her nose and it landed on AN ENORMOUS DARK-FEATHERED BIRD … ENORMOUS!
Small head, huge body, lonnng tail.
OHMYGOSHESANDGOLLIES….
You’re a TURKEY!
At least, I thought it was a turkey, having only seen a handful of wild turkeys along the road in New England once, and years ago.
The bird stood on the top of the wall almost motionless, without a care in the world (also without much of a brain, I’m told). Cakes kept barking so hard I was amazed — the bird was much bigger than she was.
Then it struck me that I wasn’t SURE it was a turkey, it could have been a bird of prey. So I picked up the frantic little dog and brought her indoors. Poor child was coughing and trembling … shaking like a leaf ….
I gave Cakes great praise, a hug and a cookie, then ran for my bird book, and sure enough, there it was, a female wild turkey. When I went back outside, she was gone.
And at that moment, on the television screen, I heard the Lakers won!
Such is life doing laundry in Ojai….
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Oh Cakes. What a good dog! And she saved you from that turkey!
The meaning of courage, indeed, is protecting one’s mistress… Thank you, as ever, Deborah.
Those dogs are our babies.
So very much. What would we do without our babies?
Big love!
Ain’t it the truth!!!
I had to care for turkeys in my peace corps training in S. Carolina. Making chastity belts… really…males are very needy.also feeling infant piggies with bottles.. at 3 and 4 in the morning…thanks Sylvia for your tales. xoxox bea
Ah, Bea, I forgot you did that. How marvelous! How fascinating!
Thanks for being you!