Thursday, December 2, 2021

Michael Perry: Hear the last leaves of fall become the first bunches of winter

So I stood there and enjoyed the sound of free-falling leaves, not because I’m some sort of naturalistic aesthetician, but because it’s what it sounds like when one is privileged to have a sound that’s in a delicate world. It’s delicate, so it’s good to enjoy it. While recording it in an ol’ brain pan for future reference and less conducive situations to calm down, perhaps as a meditation at the dentist or during a political ad.

It was time to release the chickens. I dropped the leaves and lifted their little door. They emerged with a little more reservation than usual, probably testing the temperature with their beaks. I dug up a section of the fence so they can get out and get a taste of the weak weeds, maybe a loggy locust break.

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Later that morning a strange motion caught my eye in the treeline down from the coop. A big brown bird was fluttering in a wild apple tree.

At first I thought a big bird of prey was struggling to turn around, and I ran towards the door to intervene on behalf of the chickens. Then another bird joined the first. And then another, and another, until a whole bunch of wild turkeys were flapping and shrugging at the branches, all pecking at the last of the shriveled fruits.

The tree wasn’t built to hold two turkeys, let alone a dozen, so it was an amusing sight and I took the time to enjoy it as I had the leaves ticking.

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