There was a story in the Washington Post Magazine last week about a guy who decided he wanted to hunt a wild turkey for his family’s Thanksgiving dinner. Naturally, even with a professional hunting guide, they searched for days without spotting a single turkey.
This story reminded me of a recent Thanksgiving spent at my parent’s house outside of Dahlonega, Georgia, which sits in the foothills of the Appalachians. On Thanksgiving morning, I was standing in the kitchen when I heard a tapping on the front door. From across the room, I could see a low, dark mass on the other side of the frosted-glass door. Thinking it might be a small bear, I crept quietly up to the front window and peered out. There on the porch was a large wild turkey. Knocking on our front door. On Thanksgiving Day.
Fortunately for that bird, we are neither hunters nor turkey-eaters, so after a few minutes he went on his way, pausing only for a moment at the end of the driveway to spread his enormous wings in apparent defiance – or victory.
The hunter in the Washington Post story did eventually find his turkey, but perhaps he would have been better off heeding that old expression: If you stop looking for something, it will come to you.
Wishing you all a very Happy Thanksgiving, with my gratitude for your ongoing support of Mockingbird Travel!