Saturday, November 3, 2012



It all started with the hurricane.   Sandy roared into New Jersey and swung north putting large segments of New England underwater and without power, then it tracked north into Canada - but only skirting northwestern Maine.  As the storm passed us we experienced thunder, lightning, heavy rain and a strange mist that was too heavy to be considered fog.

The first inkling that something was wrong was a telephone call from my neighbor up the road.   Hunting season had opened and at dawn Marge’s husband had left for his tree stand in the woods behind his house.   He returned about nine-o-clock with his clothes torn and ripped and his face clawed and both his eyes sockets empty.   Somehow he had found his way home.   Ned was raving that he had shot a turkey and that when he left his tree stand to pick up the bird it came back to life and attacked him.   Marge’s two teen age boys grabbed their guns and headed to the tree stand and at dark they still were not back

Meanwhile, the paramedics had collected Ned and he was still raving about a turkey trying to eat him.   The paramedics said that Ned had probably fallen out of his tree stand into heavy brush which poked out his eyes, and that he was suffering from delirium.

Later that afternoon Marge called and said that there were thirty turkeys in her back yard and that she had taken her rifle and shot six.  She said that the birds dropped in their tracks shivered and within a minute stood up shook their feathers and then attacked the house, throwing themselves against the door and the windows.  Two had crashed through the kitchen windows and she had locked herself in the bathroom with her cell phone.   She called 911 and the police dispatcher threatened to arrest her if she made any more crank calls. 

They are coming to get you Barbara!

I took my shotgun and went down the back trail to Ned’s place. There were, in fact, about 23 turkeys in her back yard – around half were pecking seeds under the bird feeder like turkeys do, but probably eight or ten were flapping and squawking and seemed to be enraged.   Just then Ned’s Rottweiler came around the corner of the house and rushed at the turkeys.   Some of the turkeys continued to clean up around the bird feeders, but the wild acting ones converged on the dog with such ferocity that the dog fled into the woods. 

Turkeys marshaling an attack on the dog!

With whoops and screams the wild turkeys pursued on the ground and in the air.  The rest of the turkeys stopped feeding on seeds and followed the attacking birds.

Chasing the dog into the woods

That was six days ago.   This morning while I was away from the house my wife disappeared.  I found truck tire tracks in the driveway of a six wheel vehicle with a tread of the kind used by the military 6X6’s.  I checked up and down the neighborhood and no one was home.  The entire road we live on was empty of people.  At some houses the doors had been left open.   At the mouth of our road where it ties into Route 4 there was a blockade and a government quarantine sign warning people that the road was closed and under marshal law due to a bird flu epidemic affecting the area. 

On the way back to the house, down a side trail to the creek I saw the back end of a military Hummer vehicle.   I parked behind the vehicle, took my deer rifle and started down the trail.  I hadn't gone thirty yards when I came across the body of a young male in what was left of a fatigue uniform – he looked like he had been the victim of a school of piranha.   Further down the trail I came on the body of a young lieutenant.  He was alive, but barely.  The lower half of his body was shredded and his intestines were exposed.   I gave him comfort and talked to him and he eventually told me the people on our road had been collected and transported to a quarantine facility north of Eustis, on the Canadian border.   He was afraid the turkeys were going to return and he asked me to end it for him – and I did.  

I returned home for my cold weather gear and some food and more ammunition.   I found the electricity off, the telephone no longer worked and there was no cell phone service.  As I left the house and traveled north it seems the whole area of western Maine had no electricity and no cell phone service. 

I am now sitting on a ridge overlooking a wire enclosure that looks more like a concentration camp than a quarantine center.  The compound is overseen by what appears to be military troops but in black uniforms.  There is actually no one guarding the fence compound which is only about five feet high and looks to be made out of chicken wire fencing, but the fenced in area appears to be under the observation of a couple of men huddled around a camp fire near the fence gate.  There is a helicopter in the clearing north of the fence and beside it a large tent there are four large troop carriers and a couple of Hummers.  

The men, women and children in the compound are all necked and wandering around in what appears to be a drugged state.  They shuffle more than walk and often bump into each other. Occasionally one will urinate or defecate while shuffling around.

I estimate about four hundred people in the enclosure and so far have not seen my wife.  About an hour ago four of the soldiers came into the enclosure pulling fifty gallon drums filled with what appears to be gruel, which they dumped into a trough.   They banged on a large pan with a ladle and that seemed to get the attention of the people who turned and shuffled toward the troughs.  Some stuck their heads in the food and ate while others clumsily scooped food up with their hands and smeared it in the vicinity of their mouths.   There is a hose stretched about six feet high behind the troughs and it appears that water is dropping from holes along its length, as I see people amble to that area and hold their heads back with mouths open – appearing to drink. 

The weather is cold.  I don’t think many of these people will last the night without clothes.

My plan is to locate my wife and tonight strip bare ass and try to infiltrate the compound.  I will get my wife and bring her out through the woods to my truck which is well hidden not for away in a draw.   I am not sure where we will go, possibly cross into Canada on the back logging roads.


The wife and I made it out and across the boarder, and are staying at a motel.  My wife has improved and hopefully will recover fully.   Meantime I must warn you – There appears to be a turkey zombie apocalypse in progress and it appears it is being covered up by the government.  If you see turkeys, chickens or any type of birds stay away from them – and whatever you do don’t kill them.
And this is very important: On November 6 we are still having a presidential election and you have got to ask yourself who would you rather be handling this Turkey Zombie Apocalypse: Flip-flopping Romney, who’s answer is to cut taxes, protect the rich and shuffle government responsibilities to the private section; Or, Barack Obama who ended the war in Iraq, rescued the Somalia hostages, killed bin Laden and brought order to the devastation caused by the massive hurricane Sandy?    The future is in your hands. 





the Ol’Buzzard


  1. Up until I read this I was leaning towards Mitt. But you have convinced me Obama is the only one of the two who would recognize a turkey when he saw one. He actually had to pardon a few. I doubt Mitt has that kind of experience.

    Thankfully that "Bird Flu epidemic" seems to be contained. No sign here in the sun belt of Maine of any erratic turkeys. Just the usual manic red squirrels.

    Great narrative BTW.

  2. Obama will win, but the turkeys will not disappear and never be satisfied I'm afraid until they destroy us all.


COMMENT: Ben Franklin said, "I imagine a man must have a good deal of vanity who believes, and a good deal of boldness who affirms, that all doctrines he holds are true, and all he rejects are false."