Someone Left the Turkey in the Rain

Gobble, Gobblblbblbbllblle

I’ll never forget being told as a child that turkeys are so stupid they can drown from staring up at the rain.   I used to imagine the sorrowful life of a turkey farmer, having to discover his waterlogged birds dead in a puddle of mud.   

Besides illustrating that water can kill turkeys as easily as it can the Wicked Witch of the West, this particular aphorism caused a certain smugness that accompanies sitting on top of the food chain.  Every Thanksgiving, I was glad to thin out the herd declaring, “if turkeys are actually that stupid, then they obviously deserve to be on my plate, drowning in gravy.”

A quick google search will show that this fable of fowl is foul fable.  Apparently these birds have what is called binocular vision which gives them the ability to look skyward without having to turn their heads.  However, what I learned that is not in their favor is the fact is that, due to the number of years that these animals have been bred in captivity, they lack certain survival skills which, if given the opportunity, would allow them to prove Darwin's theories to be true.  

In humans, as in turkeys, reasoning with the circumstances in the world around us may not be an implied skill.  Even hunger, the most primal desire, needs to be accompanied by thought if it stands any chance of being fulfilled.  By example, you may find a coconut lying on a beach, but unless you are aware that there is sweet milk is inside, you will have nothing to eat.  

Eaves dropping is entirely unavoidable in the subways of New York City.  It seems that every few months, I am bewildered to hear a tiny child speak to their parents about the specifics of MTA service changes on the A line that would make the trains run local until early Monday morning.  The parents of those freaks have turned their own fear of something bad happening into an opportunity to instill necessary urban survival techniques.  And aside from the practicality of teaching those kids the ins and outs of the subway system,  having to learn something new will keep the child actively engaged in the world around them.  This is a benefit to us all, as I happen to agree with John Waters when he says, “Boredom will lead to anger, and then the children will kill us.”

The other thing I’ve learned that debunks the myth about turkeys drowning is that, in order for them to have a desire to look up at the rain, they would have to be smart enough to understand that something is even falling from the sky. 

The notion that a “dumb” animal would be fascinated by something like rain is an act of anthropomorphization.  The concept of “fascination” requires a level of intelligence that even the smartest turkeys do not possess.  Animals of this order react to a phenomenon such as rain in one of two very simple ways: if they don't mind it, they ignore it; if it bothers them, they seek shelter. 

Blissfully avoiding what you don’t already know occurs just as noticeably in humans as it does in turkeys.  As we grow, we are given the right to tailor our education to emphasize our predetermined strengths.  Long before I was able to declare a major in college, I was at a summer camp and was asked to choose between "arts and crafts" or "soccer".  Regardless of my desire to participate in sports, my athletic ability was enough to embarrass several generations of men in my family.  But that wasn’t the only challenge that overwhelmed me about playing soccer: I didn’t know the rules of the game and I didn't care to learn them.  

Life is exactly the same way now.  Rather than facing the challenge of learning something new, I would always prefer to stay within my comfort zone.  This is dependent upon the  one need that is truly inherent in the entire human race: to never embarrass oneself in front of anyone they ever hope to sleep with. 

There are so many stories that I’ve heard that illustrate the overwhelming desire to learn; the deaf musician, the blind sculptor, the gorilla that speaks sign language and is in love with a kitten.  Yes, those anomalies occur on a daily basis, but you can't let their “against-all-odds” presentation get you down.  Tools are everywhere to help you compensate for the things that you simply cannot hope to understand.  It would make more sense for teachers to explain how to use a calculator than to bother explaining the labor of long division.  Therefore, if you have never learned to add on your fingers and toes, you're not lazy; you're normal.  

There appears to be a healthy balance that is maintained in an individual’s mind of the things they will always understand and the things that will always elude them.  Most people have met at least one person that they consider to be a genius that doesn’t have any idea as to how to mail an envelope. 

Gary Larson demonstrates irony.

And maybe you can teach an old dog new tricks.  Thomas Edison's reasoning was questioned in his youth the time he accidentally burned down his family’s barn.  His teacher called him, “addled” and his mother took him out of school, which completed the three months of formal education he received in his lifetime.  It's safe to say that he did just fine. 

Plus, he was a stone-cold fox

It wasn’t until I had graduated from college that one of my co-workers taught me the most useful way to classify the deluge of information I receive on a daily basis.  “Whenever you learn something new, you need to ask yourself- ‘is this need-to-know or is this nuts-to-know’?  If it's 'need-to-know, remember it for later.  If it's nuts-to-know, don't waste another second.”  

This is one of those skills that I wish my parents had taught me around the same time that I learned our address and phone number.  If they had, it could have saved me a lot of time spent standing like a frightened turkey in the rain, waiting for the storm to pass.