My wife Lynn and I are privileged to live on The Plantation (now referred to as The River Club) golf course in Garden City. Every year we anxiously await the “coming home to roost” of the wild turkeys. This event seems to coincide with The Idaho Legislature winding down and always occurs during the last week of March or the first week in April.
Not an anthropomorphist I, but as the years go buy and I get older it seems that some of the older birds are starting to look like some of our older legislators. It also seems that there is a hierarchy amongst and within the flock. The life expectancy of these noble creatures is two to four years, or 10-15 times less than some incumbents stay in our legislature. The DNA pool passes through generations in each case; the turnover is just faster for the birds, and it seems the whole flock benefits from the fast turnover.
There is one “Tom” we have named “CW” who is constantly pushing younger birds into a line along a fence as though surveying a “metes and bounds” property line. This bird does not walk with a presence of dominance, but rather shuffles along and admonishes young sycophants at the oddest of times and locales—behind sheds and outbuildings for example and only at sunrise and sunset and on weekends—never in the light of day.
Another “old Tom” is “JG” who struts his stuff with an officious air of benefaction, though he on prolonged observation he has no followers. The louder he gobbles, the further the other turkeys get away from him. I feel sorry for him because he doesn’t seem to have any friends or anyone who respects him.
There is one hen that when she gobbles actually shrieks as though she is scolding. We call her the “minority leader”. She screeches over and again like a mother hen. She seems to have a following however of two younger birds who are always testing their limits. She is reluctant to give up control to these youngsters and seems to shield them from the realities of nature and life.
Watching the flock is truly like watching politicians at our capital. A few of the birds are brave and fearless—I’ve seen them take on foxes and a mink. Most, I wouldn’t describe as timid, but probably reluctant to take a stand even if it would benefit the future of the flock. When danger approaches, they go to the back of the line.
Here is what scares me. As I get older, and my imagination turns from non-fiction to fiction I am trying to reconcile the fact that the only time we see the turkeys is when the legislature is not in chambers or in committee meetings. Is there an actual anthropomorphic transformation from legislator to turkey? Maybe there is some sort of wizard in the depths of the capital that waves a wand that says “if you aren’t out of Boise by such and such a date, I will turn you into a turkey. Each day you remain in session I will transform two legislators into turkeys.” We did see more turkeys today than yesterday and I notice there are some absences in both the House and Senate.
I need to say that I have tremendous respect for people who are willing to serve as an elected official at any level of government. I thank your families for serving and allowing for you to serve and for supporting you. For most it is “service before self” There are some ” older turkeys” however who seem to serve first themselves or some special interest. These are the ones that stay in town the longest after the session and frequent the Arid Club most frequently. Ironically, the open-faced turkey avocado sandwich is one of the best dishes on the menu, so I am told, and is a favorite of some of the “Old Birds” in the legislature.
I am disappointed because promises were made two years ago about three issues and they have not been kept:
- Grocery tax repeal
- Property tax reform
- Department of Health and Welfare audits
Even wild turkeys when they get into a grain field don’t “nibble around the edges”.
We needed big bites on important issues. We need “noble and brave” political leaders not domesticated sycophants run by corporate handlers. We need more younger wild turkeys and fewer Frank Perdue (chicken farmer) “wanna-bees”.
Now I know what it is like to be a Mets fan—Maybe next season. “Of all sad words of tongue and pen, these are the saddest, it might have been”.
