One of the morning talk shows I watch, I think it was Kelly and Michael, had a segment about an airline in the US that allowed a passenger to bring a turkey on board as an “emotional support” animal. The passenger had all the proper documentation and so the airline gave it a seat beside the passenger and they all took off.

Yup, that’s a turkey on a plane.

I know how comforting pets can be, and I know that some people need emotional support animals to function in high stress situations like flying. And I don’t want to make judgements about the animals people bond with.  However, I have a few questions. Was the turkey housetrained? Every turkey or chicken that I’ve had the misfortune to be around poops indiscriminately, and it’s not a little kernel that can be easily picked up, it’s a wet, stinky mess. Perhaps the turkey was wearing a little turkey diaper. Was the turkey quiet? The gobble of a turkey is quite loud and, like the constant barking of a dog, would be annoying after a while, especially in a closed environment, like the cabin of a plane. And what would a person like me do if I was on that flight? I’m afraid of birds, and I would not have been able to walk past the turkey to get to my seat or to go to the bathroom. In fact, I’m telling you now, I would not be able to be on that plane knowing there was a turkey on it.

Let me tell you a story. When we were living in our third house in Port Alberni, on our second time around (that’s another story for another time) we were just outside the city limits. A neighbour down the road had horses, goats, chickens and a turkey. We could hear the turkey when we were out and about and sometimes we saw it walking down the road. Fast forward to the time when Dale was living in Sechelt and I was living alone in the house waiting for it to sell so I could join him.  It was a weekend and so I got up later than I would during the week when I had to head off to school. I went into the kitchen and heard something at the glass door leading out to the deck. It was the turkey. It was looking into the house. I screamed and moved back so I couldn’t see it. Then I realized how silly that was, it was outside, behind glass, it couldn’t get to me. I took a step towards the door and then shouted and waved my arms. It just kept looking at me. I tried to ignore it. I tried to sit at the island and have a cup of tea but I couldn’t; my anxiety just kept climbing as it stood outside the door, gobbling. Eventually I had to go upstairs so I couldn’t see it. However, our bedroom windows overlooked the deck and the windows were open. I could still hear it, so of course I closed the windows. But a phobia is a terrible thing. I had to keep looking to see if it was there. I thought about getting into my car and just driving away, but a friend was coming to pick up the barbeque.

Ahh! My friend! A farm girl, a no nonsense woman if there ever was one. I called her and asked her to come a little earlier, so she could get rid of the turkey. She laughed at me but came right over. I met her, her husband and their son at the front door and then took them to the back gate. I let them go ahead. I guess the turkey heard us because it was in the backyard waiting. My friend shooed it, flapping her gloves at it. The turkey did not like that. It raised its wings and advanced threateningly at her. Now, at this point I was cowering behind the guys, ready to bolt into the safety of the house. I may or may not have peed a little in my pants. My friend raised her arms, trying to herd the turkey out the gate. She was yelling at it and it was trying to peck at her. Eventually she and her son got it out of the yard and it wandered down the road. They all had a good laugh at my expense then got about taking the barbeque off the deck and into the back of their truck. I saw them off and then got the hose and cleaned up the mess the turkey had left behind on the deck. Of course, I was on high alert, expecting the misbegotten spawn of the devil to come back. It didn’t. I finished the job then went into the house to phone Dale, to tell him I had survived the attack of the turkey, and to yell at him because he wasn’t there. Did I mention that he was living away and that there was a little stress around that situation because our house wasn’t selling?

So, back to the emotional support turkey. That must have been a hell of a bird. It must have been raised as a cuddle toy from the moment it hatched. I know there are fines if airlines don’t follow the regulations and rules, and the needs for emotional support animals is real. But I would have needed more than emotional support if I had seen that turkey in the waiting area, at the gate or on the plane. I would have needed a ticket for another flight and I would have been emotional about it.