They're Ba-aaaack

Remember a while back when I posted about the ferocious gangs of wild turkeys that roam our neighborhood causing trouble and looking for blood?  They're back.   And they mean business.  Tuesday when I got home from work there were three turkeys hanging out in our driveway.  That left me in a bit of a pickle because I usually park in the driveway.  I tried to pull part of the way in, but the turkeys weren't budging.  On top of that, one of them shot me a look that definitely said "just try to park here lady - make my day".  Needless to say, I was not about to mess with that turkey, so I parked down the block.

Now, I had another issue as the turkeys were blocking my path to the front door and it did not look like they were going anywhere any time soon.  Keep in mind these are not your delicious, lovable Butterballs - these are GIANT KILLER TURKEYS.  Just as I was starting to imagine the local news headlines that would result from my early demise via turkey mauling, I remembered that we had a back door.  Unfortunately, our back door doesn't open with the key.  No worries I thought - surely my loving husband will come open the door.  I walked around back, let myself through the gate and called Jeremy.  No answer.  I killed five minutes and tried again.  Still no answer.  Now I was really worried - I was clearly going to have to go around and face the killer birds.  Not to mention, by now they would have had time to split up and block my retreat to the car as well. 

Luckily, as I was rounding the corner of the building, one of the guys from the end of the block (who was apparently really worried that the turkeys would poop on the sidewalk) drove past and started blasting his horn.  I don't think the turkeys were scared as much as they were annoyed.  I am also pretty sure they jotted down the guy's license plate number as they retreated (if I were him, I'd sleep with one eye open).   Anyway, 15 minutes after arriving home, I finally made it (unharmed) through the front door.  You would think that after all of that, my husband would be (a) relieved that I made it home in one piece and (b) apologetic about missing my call and thus leaving me at the mercy of the turkeys.  Let's just say, you would be wrong.  Jeremy is still making fun of me days later.  Whatever.  I didn't get eaten by turkeys so I am still going to call it a win.