Turkeys...

Saturdays I work on my fiance's family farm. So yesterday we split wood for a good part of the day in preparations for sugaring. Grandpa Henry and Uncle Rob were already down the road past the sugar house, so Papa sent me down with the tractor while he finished up in the barn. The land is so beautiful, especially with the fresh snow fall. Down the sugar road past the barns, the river bisects the hay fields from the sugar bush, with the old stone walls still in place from when Vermont was sheep country. The only sound was the steady engine of the tractor and the clink of the chains on the tires. I was a flock of about a dozen wild turkeys spread out through the woods. Some were on the path, while others were settled on the frozen river. At my approach they took wing, one by one, and headed deeper into the woods. They were absolutely beautiful in their freedom, just going about their own business. And if at the end of their lives, a couple are taken by a hunter, it would be no worse, and probably more merciful a fate (if you're a good shot) then they would meet at the claws of another creature wanting turkey for dinner. Even as they live in captivity, we have surely killed them, breeding them on commercial farms to mature and fatten in as short a time as possible so their carcases can be wrapped in plastic on display in the grocery stores. The land itself is beautiful, hay fields, sugar lot and pastures alike, yet there are those who would destroy everything without a second thought so they could build more condos and second homes for the tourist population. Although no one wants that, as the taxes keep rising they become increasingly difficult to pay. The turkeys will be driven off another property as their circle of freedom decreases into ever smaller section.