There are turkeys everywhere, but I believe that the feathered variety is uniquely American, before export. I hear that the turkey lost to the eagle by one vote the privilege of representing the United States on the Great Seal. I try to picture the turkey occupying this pose but cannot. I also try to imagine the men who cast their votes in favor of the turkey. They must have been more interested in their stomachs than in national prestige. It is easy enough to picture a turkey carrying the laurels of peace gripped in one foot, but in that case peace does not seem so much a virtue as a survival strategy.
Where I live, wild turkeys abound. When walking in the woods, it is common to be startled by a rafter of turkeys who have taken a dim view of my intrusion, dropping from the trees overhead, their six foot wingspan beating great clumps of air as they attempt to arrest the fall and hopefully gain elevation and trajectory. I think of them as cartoon characters who run in place before moving; but once in motion they can achieve speeds that are reported to be almost 60 mph. I don't know that I've ever seen one going that fast, since by the time they've broken free of the thick branches they prefer, they have also broken free of my gaze, and what little that can be seen of the after end of a retreating turkey, and the resulting foreshortened angle, makes it difficult to estimate his airspeed.
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