This, Oh Best Beloved, for those who have never seen a turkey lest it was frozen and in plastic wrap, or nicely roasted and waiting on a Thanksgiving table, is a wild hen turkey.

She was hauling butt, so these shots, the only ones I could get of her, are frame captures taken from the low-resolution video I shot of her racing past our car. So the photos are more than a tad blurry because wild turkeys can really book.

Wild turkeys aren’t anything like the domestic mass-raised turkeys I’ve encountered, who are bred for meat, not brains. Turkeys like this hen are amazingly intelligent, wily and fast-moving birds.

And they’re as delicious as the domestic variety, according to my friends who hunt…

Which reminds me. It seems a little sisterly advice is in order for my brother, the Rev Dawg, when it comes to hunting wild critters for the dinner table.

Dawg, bagging a buck with your crossbow and then “bagging” a second deer an hour later with your SUV on the way to the butcher? It’s a little unsporting using your vehicle that way, don’tcha think?

(Glad you didn’t get hurt!)