For a season in college, I rode regularly on the Prairie Path through a more rural area. One day, I made my way down the quiet path at a fairly rapid pace. Up ahead, I spotted something obstructing the roughly six foot wide path. I could not make out what it was.
As I got closer, I could see the obstruction was moving. It was not one obstruction; it was a group of something. I had occasionally seen wildlife along the edges of the path. I had seen plenty of people. Do all the dogs walked along the path count? This was something different.
It was a flock of turkeys and they were blocking the path. Would they move? They did not seem to take much notice of my approach. Could I ride through?
I do not recall exactly what happened next. I slowed down a bit. I may have made some noise. The turkeys moved a little. Just enough so that I could ride through at a few miles per hour. They look at me, I looked at them. And then I was back on a quiet path with a few more miles to go before reaching my destination.
Even though I have ridden that part of the Prairie Path dozens of times, I have only encountered a group of turkeys once. And we both lived to tell the tale.