Congratulations Flock of Wild Turkeys!

From the ashes of Thanksgiving, a war cry rises.  And you, the collective intelligence of a flock of wild turkeys, prepare yourselves to answer the call.

You’ll emerge from your Turkey Holes (where we imagine turkeys live – we’re not entirely clear on that) and begin to clomp about the forest, looking for a welcoming target: a lone hunter.

Before long you’ll find one: Bill Peterson, a 41 year old used car salesman and father of five.  Bill will be wearing a bright orange vest and carrying a twelve gauge shotgun loaded with birdshot.  Bill will not be particularly aware of his surroundings, following an opulent post-Thanksgiving leftover feast aimed at making room for more turkey and, as a result, he will be more vulnerable.

You will descend upon Bill, first coming at him from behind with a smattering of older turkeys, turkeys with nothing to lose.  They’ll knock Bill forward on to his hands and knees, making him drop his shotgun away from himself.  This will open Bill up to an attack from all angles.  At this point the young turkeys will emerge from the woods.

They’ll surround Bill rapidly and begin pecking at him, clawing him with their turkey talons and slipping bits of Bill meat down their gullets in between strikes.

Within an hour little will be left of Bill spare his gun, some bones picked clean and the tattered remnants of his vest and the less appetizing pieces of his clothing.

The irony of this will be lost on you, as you are a flock of turkeys and really aren’t very bright, at least not when it comes to things other than murder.

Congratulations Flock of Wild Turkeys!