Years ago, I learned from experience to expect anything from the roadways.
Driving behind a farm truck on a rural highway once, four bales of hay dropped in front of my car. Imbedded in that bale was a pitchfork, which impaled the car’s radiator and left me stranded.
A year or two later a collision with the biggest deer I had ever seen led me to give up hunting. After hours in the field waiting for a buck, I met the large 12-point on the drive back home, totaling my car. I figured that was a sign, so I gave up the sport.
Friends in the years since have tried once or twice to get me to go turkey hunting, but I’ve resisted. But on Sunday I killed my first gobbler, with the front end of a new car that now has a damaged hood and imbedded feathers for decoration. We’ve all watched the region’s wild turkey population grow in recent years, and I often see them from the side of the road.
I never thought, however, that a 15-pound bird could cause such a problem. Yet there he was, sitting along the interstate as I made my way through North Alabama on Sunday. As I neared, he turned and faced the other way. Just before I passed by, though, he turned back and leapt toward my car.