Turkeys and ruined bridges in Vermont, by Edward Huse, 2007

[This was written on April thirtieth.]
Today I drove the back roads to Rochester. The weather was beautiful. The rivers are busy this time of year - full but not ferocious. They are still wicked fast though, like thick viscous clear liquid glass running by as fast as possible.
It is a definately scenic route, so that the drive itself was great in the trusty, zippy old Saab. And then to arrive itself is a pleasure, it is so nice there in the little town of Rochester, Vermont. Everyone's gardens are perking up there, things are looking crisp and green already, the chickens were out busy, and the mechanics were taking a break watching traffic while I made a judicious u-turn to visit a bike shop.
The turns can be decieving, and on the way home I almost ran over a couple of turkeys - Who says they can't fly?!
They split in different directions. One played possum at the side of the road, but the other lept instantly into muscular flight and sailed through the woods and over the river with apparently just one initial swift stroke. I was very impressed. It was like watching a C5 cargo plane taking off from a hot zone at dawn or something.
This happened right after I passed a favorite view of a ruined bridge that is only visible during 'stick season' - that, plus the awe-inspiring turkey exhibition of powered flight, made me stop at the next turn-off and make a few drawings, one of them is here.