A Turkey Visitor Provides Food for Thought

On March 27th, I was up early working at my computer with my balcony door open (which is pretty usual—I like lots of fresh air). I kept hearing what sounded like a turkey gobbling coming from down the street, but told myself it couldn’t be so, could it? It could have been a very weird dog.

The gobbling got closer and closer until it was coming from right in front of my house, at which point I had to get up to go check it out, because now it sounded unmistakably like a turkey. Sure enough, there in my front lawn was a young-looking turkey, strutting around. As soon as I stepped onto the balcony, though, it whisked around the corner into my side yard. I never realized that the land speed of a turkey was so fast.

I grabbed my camera and ran downstairs, then snuck quietly out the back door. It tried to come into my back yard but was foiled by the iron gate. When I came out, it turned around and headed for the northwest corner of my yard. I got a few pictures, one that isn’t very clear at all, one under the redwoods (taken through the iron gate), and a couple that I took by swinging wide and around the redwoods after it flew to the back fence. Then it spread its wings and flew away, rather gracefully and effortlessly for such a large bird.

I believe that, if we are alert and pay attention, information flows to us (and from us, but that’s not the topic today) all the time. This information can be in the way of messages to warn us, guide us, or otherwise inform us. These messages came come in any form, such as billboards that catch our eye, a stranger making a comment that catches out attention, and so on.

Especially, I believe that when we see animals, those animals bring messages of some sort. (Even animals who are in our lives every day, such as cats and dogs and even goldfish.) So my normal reaction when seeing an animal is to reflect upon what the message is that is being brought to me. I always get something interesting.

Somehow I failed that process this time, at least in as far as reflecting on it immediately. That might be in part because I just don’t know what to make of the turkey as a messenger. The usual animals I see, I tend to know their messages (hawks, hummingbirds, crows, and deer appear to me often, for example). But a turkey—? I was clueless.

This morning, however, I awoke thinking about it, and decided it was time to complete the process. After some Googling and reading, I found this Web site that seems to summarize most succinctly the turkey’s meanings (it also plays a nice little sound file of a turkey’s gobble).

After reading the various pages, I turned inward and asked my inner self what the meaning was for me. I got something related to the posted meanings, but personal for me, which is exactly perfect—to be meaningful, a message must be personally tailored to the individual it is meant for. Cookie-cutter symbolism, where a dog is said to mean the exact same thing to everyone, just doesn’t go far enough. It is a start, and that is all; it is up to the recipient of the message to get the gist of the message as it was meant for him or her.

The point of this post is not just to share my own experience, but also to encourage others to be alert to messages from the world coming their way. Being open to such messages enriches life immensely, and can help each of us make better, more informed choices in our lives.