The scene: 40 miles east of Armpit, British Columbia, in the Cariboo Mountains, a tiny hidden ranch at the end of a logging road.
On a third-hand tip, and using 3 maps of varying levels of innacuracy, Don and I go in search of Little Wolverine Lake, home of Walter the giant rainbow trout. On one of our many false-turns, we end up driving the truck and boat-trailer into a farmyard, devoid of people but filled with about 400 large, nasty, hungry domestic turkeys.
I hop out to lock the hubs and direct Don as he backs the trailer around, and the turkeys descend on me. These ones had apparently been trained how to eat, or at least peck with all the violence of 20+ pound fattening-up machines.
By the time I was back in the truck, having probably broken some drumsticks in my mad dash, I was bleeding freely from at least 30 leg punctures, and there were several holes in my heavy leather boots.
Fishing was shot for the day, and the good folks at the Likely clinic patched me up and dosed me with a tetanus booster and 2 kinds of antibiotic. The SPCA and the Mounties had a helluva time finding the place to check on it, but it turns out it was an ‘off the grid’ homestead that did not exist on any map, tax roll, nothing. It didn’t exist, and the ‘owners’ had taken a vacation and just left the livestock.
The turkeys were given to a large turkey farm, and the staff at my school took the rest of the livestock and three dogs into foster care through the SPCA.
I’ll never forget the moment when the mild amusement of “hey, look at all the stupit birds” turned into hopping around like my pants were on fire, yelling “SHOO!” at th top of my lungs.
Don hadn’t stopped laughing when we reached the clinic.
Never let the turkeys get you down!