I played hooky from school just to be with you

I am embarrassed that I failed to mention the most important thing that happened in our Cedar Point trip after Anthrohio. I apologize for the error. Especially as it involves the satisfaction of a longing years, maybe decades, in the making.

It took place in the Frontier Trail's ``historical'' zoo, which showcases how farmers of the 19th Century Ohio would raise llamas and Patagonian cavies and camels and such. But they also have less plausible farm animals, such as donkeys and ducks and turkeys. If you have looked at the knobbly, curled-up head af a turkey you've probably thought: what does that feel like? And for years bunnyhugger has longed to feel the head of one, finding turkeys at county fairs and at petting zoos uninterested in letting her touch their heads. One time we saw a pet turkey in the waiting room of our vet clinic but failed to think to ask about feeling it. I imagine the turkey was not in the mood for this sort of thing, though.

On this day after Anthrohio, though? Once again the turkey was not interested in being pet. But bunnyhugger mentioned her longing where one of the park staff could hear, and before we knew what was happening she had scooped up the bird who put up with a couple minutes of being held steady. And --- being touched, right on the knobbly head, where bunnyhugger had long wanted.

What does a turkey head feel like, where it's all wrinkles and shadows?

Soft. Fuzzy. I had imagined the head to be nearly bare, and that it would be the strange feel of turkey flesh. Not so. The turkey's head is covered in very small, soft feathers, a velvety feeling surprising in how welcoming it was.

If there were anything unsatisfying, it's that the turkey hadn't chosen to be petted, but rather tolerated it as part of his job as a working turkey. A small thing, though, especially considering that minutes before we'd expected we would never know what it felt like.

Trivia: The month of August was, on the Teuton calendar as used by the Angles around AD 725 (as recorded by the Venerable Bede), known as Woedmonath. Source: Mapping Time: The Calendar and its History, EG Richards.

Currently Reading: Michigan History, May/June 2023, Editor Emily Allison.