The author of Beach Dreams (2008), Trish Perry lives in Northern Virginia with her hilarious teenaged son. She discovered her love of writing while earning a degree in Psychology. She switched career paths in 1997 and never looked back. Her debut novel, The Guy I’m Not Dating, placed second in the 2007 FHL Inspirational Readers’ Choice Contest, and her second novel, Too Good to Be True, is a current finalist in the 2008 FHL IRCC. 

As poet Alfred Lord Tennyson said, “In the spring a young man’s fancy lightly turns to . . .” turkeys? It does if the young man happens to deliver mail for the Hilldale Station Post Office in Madison, Wisconsin.

Apparently, a flock of wild turkeys has lately taken a vicious dislike to Hilldale Post Office letter carriers. While the workers attempt to deliver mail, this gang of turkey thugs has been known to peck at the carriers and attack them with their sharp spurs. One postal driver reported a turkey boarding his truck to open up a big ol’ can of heiny whoop on him.

What gives? Residual resentment over an unforgivable rash of late Thanksgiving card deliveries?

For answers, the post office turned to Eric Lobner, regional wildlife program supervisor for the Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources. Lobner is sure the bullying has something to do with turkey mating season, which runs for only a few months. I suppose many of us would be miffed about a two-month mating season. I feel like belting a postal worker just thinking about it.

Because the male turkey’s head changes from blue to red during mating season, Lobner suggests the turkeys might be feeling amorous toward the postal department’s red, white, and blue

delivery trucks. Say what? I don’t care how crazy in love you get, if you can’t tell the difference between your spouse and a large, rectangular, fume-spewing motorized vehicle, you’ve got far worse problems than a short mating season.

And why beat the living daylights out of the object of your affection? Wouldn’t a box of chocolates be more effective?

In an attempt to ward off attacks, the post office armed their carriers with water pistols. Can we just pause for a moment to picture a grown man in blue shorts and dark socks, trying to fend off a rabid turkey with a 59¢ water pistol? And before any of you ladies decide to store water pistols in your nightstands for those “I’ve got a headache” nights, you should know the efficiency of the pistols didn’t last long. Besides, we can’t be sure our wildlife supervisor is correct in his mating-season assumption. If the pistols are meant to dampen romance, that’s one thing. But if these sharp-clawed turkeys are just disgruntled, foul-tempered warriors of fury, do we really want to be spraying water in their faces?

Give me a big stick any day. In fact, some of the postal workers have done that. If you live in Wisconsin and happen to see your postal worker screaming like a little girl and whacking a turkey with a stick, you just remember who started it.

The next time someone calls you a turkey, don’t be too quick to feel insulted. Ask yourself: Is it spring? Maybe the person actually thinks you’re fearless and powerful. Or a hot number. Then again, maybe you’re about to be hit with a big stick.