stingrae wrote:okay so the turkey video is real cute and all
but i'm going to go ahead and ruin it:
that turkey isn't going for the hug. oh no. he is going for the full-on semi-horizontal tango. the cloacal kiss. the one-and-done fun. the that turkey thinks that man is a big, sexy (if kinda weird-looking, but obviously he doesn't judge) turkey, and he's trying to get himself a piece.
legitimately. turkeys very often mistake people for - say it with me - big, weird, sexy turkeys. if you've ever been hunted through a petting zoo by one, now you know why.
HellBunny wrote:Okay, I want to hear this story stingrae.
stingrae wrote:Since HellBunny asked:
Once, when I was about thirteen, I went with my family to one of those cutesy pick-your-own places, up in Massachusetts. They had a hayride through the orchards, a quaint little farmstand to buy cider and local baked goods, and - as I was elated to find out - a fuck-ton of animals, ranging from emus to highland cattle to - you guessed it - turkeys.
Me, being a budding artist with a hankering for some close-up sketch sessions with the petting zoo animals, went into the pen with my young cousin, and started walking around. There were sheep, goats, ducks and things - and one big-ass turkey. Now, I was pretty absorbed in my drawing, and I didn't notice the turkey at first.
Until he started walking up to me and making these warbly coo-gobbles at me, winding around my feet and nearly tripping me up. I had, at this point, not a single idea about the ridiculously indiscriminate sexual habits of turkeys. I thought he was just, you know, really friendly. He walked right up to my cousin and happily received some petting, and from then on he was on us like glue.
We spent close to an hour in that enclosure, me sketching and my cousin having a ball interacting with the animals, and the turkey was just - following us around. Still, I didn't sense anything was up. He was making those weird throaty gobbles and fanning his tail and all that, and I just sort of assumed it was a dominant display, a don't-mess-with-me thing.
And then I made the mistake of crouching down to get up close and personal with a goat that had laid down. I should mention: at this point in my life, I had decided that blonde was just not my speed, and had just recently dyed my hair red. Not auburn, not deep red, fire-truck red. Blazing, bright, vivid - and to this turkey - irresistibly red.
I never had a chance. I heard the sound of wingbeats behind me and then suddenly my head was the perch for twenty-odd pounds of amorous turkey.
Friends, it was the most terrifying experience of my life. Its feet dragging down my back and trying to get a handle on my shirt, the wings beating at my ears, my cousin screaming because I, too, had begun screaming - it knocked my glasses off of my face and for a few seconds my world was nothing but gobbles and feathers and the blurred panicked face of my cousin, who was, of course, still screaming.
I finally stood up, bucked the damn thing off like a majestic rodeo bronco, and grabbed my cousin's arm to hightail us right the hell out of there.
I sent my aunt into the pen to get my glasses, because I swear to god that turkey was still watching me.
I still take a strong amount of vengeful schadenfreude in eating the HELL out of some Thanksgiving turkey. Ornery fuckers.