A Commotion at the Edge of the Asphalt
The cyclist planted his running shoes onto the cracked pavement and lowered his torso toward the mossy curb. Right beside him, an adult wild turkey dragged its tail feathers across the fallen oak leaves, turning circles near an open iron grate.
He kept his palms open and extended outward, maintaining a low crouch to prevent startling the bird. Another bicycle rested on its kickstand several yards behind him on the empty curve of the paved trail.
The hen flared both wings, lifting off the ground for half a second before landing near the edge of the embankment. She took three rapid strides up the steep mossy incline, craning her neck back toward the roadside culvert.
Inspecting the Dark Culvert
The cyclist rose to a full standing posture, tracking the mother bird’s path into the thick green undergrowth. As the hen disappeared past the fern line, he pivoted toward the drainage slot embedded in the stone ditch.
He walked directly to the curb, extended his index finger, and pointed downward into the iron bars. The metal slats sat flush against the earth, choked by dead leaves and washed-down silt from recent forest runoff.
He rested both hands on his knees, leaning forward to peer through the narrow gaps into the subterranean chamber. His head tilted sideways as he checked the shadows beneath the concrete lip.
Dropping onto his right knee on the asphalt, he pulled his shoulders downward to get level with the opening. His dark socks met the leaf litter as he shifted his weight forward to steady himself.
Reaching Toward the Shadows
He stretched both bare palms flat along the rim of the culvert, resting his fingertips against the damp leaf litter. His left hand formed a barrier beside the dark opening while his right hand cupped toward the interior.
He remained motionless, keeping his breath steady and his wrists still against the ground. The mother hen clucked from behind the moss-covered boulders further up the wooded slope.
Inside the black rectangle behind the bars, dry leaves crunched and shifted. A pale head poked out between the leaf debris piled at the culvert’s mouth.
A tiny, striped turkey poult emerged into the daylight, stepping slowly across the dried brown oak leaves. The chick placed its pink, oversized feet forward one at a time, wobbling as its belly brushed the damp foliage.
The cyclist kept his hands completely stationary, palms spread wide open on either side of the small bird. The chick extended its thin neck, chirping softly as it leaned forward toward his fingers under the green forest canopy.
@animal.by.muzamil Don’t Mess With A Mama! Protective Turkey Attacks Cyclist To Save Her Chick #shorts #wildlife #animales #animal #bear
♬ original sound – Animal By Muzamil Rescue – Animal By Muzamil Rescue
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