Locals survive turkey attack

My friends, neighbors and fellow fly fishers, Joe and Beth Aaron, spent Thanksgiving weekend near the Trinity River with friends Tom and Deb Engel. It was their annual holiday fishing trip. Their fishing opportunities were blown out by the rain, but they remained to enjoy the scenery and ambiance of the Trinity Alps.

Joe and Beth, and their lab, Grace, jog daily. They might have missed the fishing, but they didn’t forego their running. So Thanksgiving morning, they headed out along the road through French Gulch (population 346). As they trotted along, they took note of the local wildlife. I’ll let Joe’s account take it from here:

“A Tom turkey and his harem were loitering in a local’s driveway. This Tom was in full color. He was showing his bright plumage off to his four girlfriends and was clearly annoyed by the interruption of this courting ritual. He vociferously made his displeasure known as we ran by him hurriedly.

“On our return to the cabin, the Tom and his hot chicks were still there, contemplating things that cannot be written about in a family newspaper. Unlike the chickens roaming the same yard, this Tom had no interest in crossing the road. He exhibited, shall we say, a foul temper. He chased after us some 30 yards down the road, coming uncomfortably close, maybe five feet.

“We described this turkey to our friends. ‘How big was he?’ they asked. This turkey was so big he belonged in Ripley’s Believe It or Not Museum. We were visibly shaken.

“The next morning, we wondered if these turkeys may not have flown the coop. After all, they may not have gotten the word President Obama had pardoned their brothers. So, as I jogged along, I picked up a big stick on the side of the road. They heard us coming. All five charged out to meet us.

“Beth was smart enough to stop, which will surprise no one that knows her. Grace, the Wonder Dog, on the other hand, was belly-aching for a fight. I, too, was emboldened with that big stick. Together, Grace and I moved forward like the warriors we were.

“Suddenly we could see the fear in the hen’s eyes. They stopped dead in their tracks. But not the Tom. In order to demonstrate his might, he came within striking distance of my weapon.

“All of a sudden Grace got cold feet. She decided this was best decided between us boys. There goes the theory about ‘man’s best friend.’

“Now it was just the Tom and me in a stare down. I smite the Tom ... in the Biblical sense. My stick brokith in half. It scaredith the poop out of me. My fear runneth over.

“The initial body blow dazed the Tom but he stood his ground. This was one tough bird. Grace and I turned and ran like the yellow bellied chickens we were. We live to fight another day but that Tom owns French Gulch Road.”

Back to fishing – the weather has made that tough. If the rains stay away a few days, the sturgeon action in the Bay should be good.  The coast still offers good action for dungeness crab and rockcod. Otherwise, there are always wild turkeys somewhere. Just ask Joe.

Hunting

and

Fishing

Bill

Lynch