Returning to our house through the back yard after walking the dog this week, I heard shouting. A man’s voice, with some urgency to it. Couldn’t hear who was speaking or what he was saying. So it was with some interest that I heard my sweetheart say, once Rascal and I were in the house, that he’d been the one shouting and hadn’t I heard him warning me about that big buck I’d nearly walked into? Or his doe companions?
Sure enough, now they were standing around out back, posing; we could see them through the window. They’d dashed away when I’d had the bad manners to startle them, but they’d come back. And no, I saw none of these large creatures sharing our space. When the hood is up on my winter jacket—which is to say, all winter—it funnels my vision to the ground in front of me, apparently limiting my heads-up experiences.
My sister who lives and hunts Up North harvested a ten-point buck this season. She and her husband had to drag it a ways before they could field dress it, and they estimate it weighed two hundred pounds. The buck in our yard was of a similar size, and male whitetails are aggressive at this time of year. No wonder my sweetheart was trying to warn me off.
Our friend Don wished us a happy Thanksgiving, and I told him about seeing whatever it is that ran across the rural road in the grey, rainy, early morning last Tuesday. The big, dark, furry animal that moved like a bear. Don listened to the very good reasons my brother-in-law—husband of the mighty huntress–had given that it wouldn’t have been a bear, and his sound theory that the sighting was probably a Newfie.
Then Don said, it was probably a bear. If the animal was the size of a Newfie, he said, that’s about a hundred and fifty pounds. That’s the size of the young male bears getting kicked out of their home territories by dominant males right about now. So the young ones go off looking for new places to be.
He and I talked for a while about the gait of bears, how they roll along and, being taller in back than in front, seem to be going downhill. He told me of other southerly bears he knows about, as well as other northerly animals living well south of their more-normal domains, including some that have been here for decades.
“I think we’re about twenty years from having bears living down here permanently,” he finished.
Various friends, in the last couple weeks, have commented that, regardless of the number of people expected for Thanksgiving dinner, preparing it is the same amount of work. Only five of us gathered for the feast yesterday, but what we had prepared maxed out the table space.
Cory took responsibility for the turkey again this year, by popular acclamation. He spatchcocks it, and the result is the best turkey ever—golden, moist, and evenly cooked. He elected to carve it off the premises and came bearing the platter of bird, ready for the place honor on the table.
The trouble was keeping the place of honor open. People kept putting other delicious things there. Every time I went to the dining room, I’d clear off the spot again. To no avail. When the triumphal bird arrived, potatoes and brussels sprouts needed to be relocated. By the time we said grace, dinner had become a strictly elbows-in affair, but the food was great and we were thankful.
Tanya reported they’d had a surprise when they’d removed the turkey from its packaging yesterday morning. They’d reached inside and found the giblets and neck. Only the neck was endless.
“It was like that magic trick, when the handkerchiefs just keep coming,” Cory added.
“I’ve never had such a mismatch between the body and the neck before,” Tanya said. “It may have been a goose neck.”
Tanya also mentioned that, while taking a walk around the neighborhood yesterday, she’d seen a family out “turkey trotting. The whole family, kids and everything!” At this point, she turned to Cory and said, “I’m sure glad we don’t do team sports on holidays.”
“In fact,” she went on, “I hope that couple knew that about each other before they got married. That could be a deal breaker. Full disclosure is important.”
We’re glad Cory and Tanya decided to get married and come live next door to us, whether or not they turkey trot. They’re the best neighbors anyone could ask for.
28 November 2025