After yesterday’s post, which included turkey vultures, the children would like me to explain how turkeys have come to figure prominently in our family jokes.
Our camping trip had been largely a bust. We’d had a good first day, but now everything everywhere was wet. The rain came sporadically – just enough to keep us from doing anything but not quite enough to send us home. Mercifully, our tent wasn’t leaking, but keeping an almost-4-year-old and a 6-year-old occupied in a tent was taking a toll on everyone. Finally, after an aborted attempt to tell yet another story, Andre declared that it was “just water” and loaded us all into the car to go find a trailhead and take a hike.
The children were shocked.
“But it’s raining!” protested one.
“And muddy!” objected the other, looking at me because I, too, was grumpy and this sudden decision to hike in the rain struck me as, um, unwise. I kept my mouth shut and tried to be impressed by Andre’s enthusiasm, but I was mostly annoyed as I imagined more mud in more places.
We shoved everyone into rain gear and drove the five minutes to the trailhead in silence.
As we got out of the car, the drizzle began again and a breeze shook water from the trees onto our heads. Commence loud complaining. Andre, whose ability to be creative and funny in the face of daunting circumstances never ceases to amaze me, stepped onto the trail then stopped short and said, “Ssh… you don’t want to scare the turkeys!”
Wait. What?
He crouched down a little and looked towards the forest as though turkeys might appear at any moment. “Ok,” he whispered, “these are special giant turkeys unique to this region. The biggest ones can get as big as a small car. Actually, one was nearly as big as our car.”
The boys looked doubtful. I was trying very hard not to laugh. Andre continued, “If we want to see them, we need to proceed carefully. And we need to call them. Do you know how to call a turkey?”
We all shook our heads no. Andre, still crouched and tiptoeing, started to gobble while the three of us, convinced he had lost his mind, just stared at him. Then I thought, what the heck, and I started to gobble, too. Thomas watched us briefly and joined in. We proceeded cautiously towards the trees, gobbling like maniacs. Only 3-year-old Eric hung back.
Andre turned around and said quietly, “C’mon, Eric, don’t you want to help call the turkeys?” Eric just stared at him. He shook his head.
Thomas and I chimed it, cajoling, “Come on, it’s easy, you just say ‘gobble, gobble’.”
Eric shook his head again. He was not going to gobble. The rest of us might have gone insane, but he was maintaining a firm grip on reality.
Andre tried one more time, “Ok, Eric. If you don’t want to gobble, how do you call a turkey?”
Eric fixed us all with narrowed eyes, put his hands around his mouth, leaned back and bellowed, “HEY! TURKEY!”
The rest of the hike was lots of fun.
Persistence and Pedagogy 
Excellent. I love the image of the crazy dad and the others (mostly) joining in. I have a lot of memories of hiking in the rain, though most of them involved getting caught, not actually setting out. That’s a hardy group. Favorite line: As we got out of the car, the drizzle began again and a breeze shook water from the trees onto our heads. Commence loud complaining.
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Oh, the complaining… and also the fun. Thankfully it stopped raining relatively early in the hike and we ended up having a pretty good time.
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Ha! Eric sounds hilarious! Actually, your whole family sounds delightfully goofy. It sounds like you have a lot of fun together!
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Eric is actually a riot. He is also way too smart for his own good, but I figure that will even itself out over time, right? Also, I tend toward the serious, so I credit my husband with about 90% of the goofy, but there is a lot of goofy in our family.
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LOL! Amanda, you are such a great storyteller! So much wonderful crafting here. Following yesterday’s post makes this even better. For the record, I’m with you about that mud. I’ve cleaned up after returning from such camping escapades. No fun setting the tent up in the backyard and hosing it down inside and out and getting it to dry in order to store … not to mention laundry and shoes … BUT what great memories we have.
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I’m pretty well convinced that I prefer having camped to actually camping. The memories are good but the packing & unpacking & cleaning.. oh my!
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Thanks for the backstory. I enjoyed the photo of marshmallow roasting in the rain. It’s no wonder turkeys still fill the conversations you have at home.
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I also loved the backstory. I can picture the moment that you joined the crazy and became a turkey vulture too. These are the moments that families are built upon. Love!!!
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My kids are seriously into roasting marshmallows. Somewhere I also have a picture of roasting marshmallows over candles when we couldn’t get outside one time.
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I can see you all trotting down the trail! What a great story you’ll remember forever.
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This sounds like such a fun family hike, rain and all! Your posts always make me smile!
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Thanks – my family is a little nutty, so I’ve got plenty of stories 😉
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Nutty is the best!
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That’s a fantastic story! How funny!!
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Perfection! I love it.
I can also relate to the wetness of camping and how it can really dampen the fun. You never dry out but the memories never go away either!
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Half the time I’m not even convinced I like camping – I think I like the memory of camping. But we still go out there!
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Camping is always an adventure! That is great about the turkeys – “HEY TURKEY”
HAHAHAH We have wild turkeys by my school. There is a certain flair to your stories! I love it
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I see loads of wild turkey on my way to and from school. I will never look at them the same way! LOL!
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Laughing out loud! That is such a wonderful memory for your family to use for years to come. Here, turkey, turkey!
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