Death by Turkey

Living in a suburban college campus, on the edge of Buffalo, New York, I take a look out the window as I go down the stairs every morning. Living on the fifth floor, I get about five glimpses of wildlife through the windows in the menial stretch of woods behind my dormitory, an all freshman residence hall. As I walk down in the morning, I think about all sorts of things - how much breakfast will actually be edible, how many of my classes will put me to sleep, and most importantly: the meaning of life.

As I look down, out those windows, I see all sorts of things. The Eco-Trail being built on the campus, service trucks, the little creek that runs through the line of mostly deciduous, tall trees. And, I see an overabundance of little gray squirrels. Balls of fur, skittering around my campus, collecting nuts and improving the nature-deprived college student's quality of life. There is one last living thing I see: turkeys. Most of the time, its just one. There is a lone turkey which occupies our stretch of woods. During the night, the lone turkey somehow flies into one of our tall, tall trees, to sleep. In the morning, as I descend, I watch the turkey - and the squirrels search the ground for food. What does all of this mean?

In my conversation with myself, I decided to entirely pass up the chance to discuss the meaning of life with my inner conscience. Instead, I decided today exactly how I want to die. Well, almost. I decided that this particular way to die would be so agreeable to me, that I would most likely make the Gods sign a contract with me stating that yes, I could meet an untimely death in this manner.

When I die, I want to die via a flock of wild turkeys. I want it to be in a relatively suburban area, where people will find my body, mauled into little beak shaped pieces. There are several benefits to this, including but not limited to: It may hurt but I will laugh myself to death. I will be canonized as a poor, helpless victim to killer turkeys. The newspaper articles about me will be amazing. I will die happy, knowing I fed an entire flock.

An alternative to the flock of wild turkeys would be a colony of squirrels. The cute, fuzzy things that eat bird seed and get into your house when you don't want them to. I think that the comic relief of that event would be enough of a contribution to society that I would die, well, happy.

This article is intended for humor only. If a friend or family member that you know has been killed by a flock of wild turkeys, or a colony of ravenous squirrels, I have the deepest sympathies. No offense intended.