The past two mornings, I've been able to witness the morning descent of a flock of wild turkey from the trees into the neighbor's pasture. One by one, they glide down from the night's roosting spot into the open field. I'd been hoping to catch a glimpse of the elusive, not-quite-albino turkey, but either this isn't its flock, or that turkey is no longer of this world. I have no way of knowing which is the case.

While most of the time, watching wildlife is a relaxing and joy-filling experience, sometimes, it can be extremely stressful. This morning, two of the turkeys landed in a different pasture and were separated from their buddies by a livestock fence. One of the turkeys took a couple passes along the fence, then realized it wasn't going to get through, so flapped its wings and flew right over. Sadly, the other turkey wasn't quite so brilliant. I watched as that turkey marched back and forth, back and forth, while the rest of the flock started wandering off to a more distant location. Twenty minutes later, the flock was entirely out of sight, and still this turkey wandered the fence line, looking for that hole that wasn't there. I left the window to do other things.

An hour later, I found myself wondering if the turkey had finally figured things out, so I looked out to the neighbor's pasture again. It was still there. I couldn't take it anymore. I headed outside and into the neighbor's pasture. I didn't have to go far when that turkey spotted me across the field, hopped the fence, and took off running after its long-gone buddies.