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 Ducks are selected for bright yellow bath time toys. Swans contribute
their elegant forms to crystal and brocade. However, It was not until Old Glory
arrived on our homestead with his harem of adoring hens that I understood why turkeys
are chosen to describe dysfunctional cars, and why going ‘cold turkey’ describes
extreme discomfort. In five months he
has morphed from a waddling ball of white fluff to a compelling metaphor for
human greed, ineptitude, vanity, and arrogance. No exaggeration is required. Old
glory has demonstrated why turkeys are useful to writers of farce. His cocky
strut, self-congratulatory gobble, and baroque plumage make him the uncontested
czar of the barnyard. Old Glory wakes me every morning by pecking on the glass
pane of the door next to my bed. He sleeps under the open sky even as ice accumulates
on his back and icicles hang from his wings. He not only follows on my heels as
I go about my chores, he enjoys a daily hug. Wrapping my arms around his plump
chest I am inches from the Baroque spectacle that his head affords. These four
inches are my daily dose of topographical and chromatic wonderment. No one passes Old Glory by. We salute his
ungainly magnificence, and affirm the diversity that offers ‘cute’ ducklings, ‘elegant’
swans, and ‘sumptuous, ostentatious, extravagant’ turkeys.
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