Living so close to the bush, I'm often privileged to see things you don't get to enjoy in the city--it also helps that our daughters get us up before sunrise every morning, when wildlife is more prevalent. Take, for example, the morning rituals of the wild turkeys.
Every morning for the past week, I've awoken to see a single wild turkey standing out in the middle of a field surrounded by woods. He stands there, surveying the scene, for a 5-10 minutes. Then, as if in response to some silent signal, the other turkeys join him one-by-one. They come flying down from high up in the deciduous trees. The sight of them flying is unlike anything you've seen, almost like a car driving in water: you know it's wrong, but there it is.
Slowly they emerge from different parts of the forest, assembling themselves around the single Tom. Once they're all down from the treetops, they commence eating in the field, and then quietly disappear once more into the woods.