Meg and I were almost killed today by a turkey.
Totally not lying.
We were at the zoo, waving to the monkeys and telling the giraffes we loved them, singing songs of joy and love, and wishing our fellow living beings well, when all of a sudden, this big turkey stepped out into the path.
I could tell he was ready for a fight.
Meg clapped her hands, like she does with the turkeys at the farm to make them gobble. But this was no farm turkey, and he would only be gobbling for blood.
We took a step forward. He took a step forward. We faked to the left. He followed us. I asked him what the hell was his problem. He didn't answer because he's a turkey.
Finally, I just took off running, pushing the stroller with all the might my spaghetti arms could handle. We ran right past him as he ruffled his feathers, finally gave a gobble, and Meg screamed with glee.
When we turned around he was still mad, but his little bird brain had forgotten all about the fact we were the ones he was mad at. And there was another family coming up the path. A menacing looking family.
We didn't even stick around to see what happened. I figure next time if we see the turkey with a black arm band we will know.