It was the start of a typical fall day. The drive home after the morning shift of school carpool duty is the same every time: the same podcast, the same roadside construction, the same red lights at the same intersections. The redundancy has trained my vehicle to practically drive itself.
While stopped for a red light at the route’s largest intersection, movement on the grassy hill of the far corner interrupted my autopilot trance. I strained my sleepy eyes through the dirty windshield and dim early dawn light, but could not make out the dark object. Resorting to the powerful eye of my phone’s camera, I zoomed in on a large turkey.
With animatronic-motion, the large bird slowly strutted full-feathered along the side of the busy highway as if it were a kitschy mechanical roadside attraction. For several seconds, I questioned his authenticity—and my sanity.
It seemed wildly out of place. Yet the contrast of unhurried nature among harried traffic was even more rejuvenating than the coffee in my cup holder.
There he was, morning after morning. He was spotted most afternoons and evenings as well. I caught him trying to use a nonexistent crosswalk on several occasions. The way he stood there with the patience of a casual pedestrian caused me to anxiously wonder whether or not he was going to attempt to cross six lanes of traffic.
How long had this magnificent bird been patrolling a small corner of my world without me even noticing?
I began researching turkey facts, gaining a rather ridiculous fascination with one of God’s more unique creatures. He brought joy to my mundane drive. As I shared my wildlife sightings with fellow route commuters, we marveled at our new feathered friend and missed him when he was absent during our passage.
But his sphere of influence extended well beyond us, we soon learned. He had many friends, as well as a name. Gary’s fame grew immensely with the creation of a Facebook group in his honor. Then he was featured on the news. Yes, our turkey was a legend.
Perusing his fan mail and paparazzi shots on his page, I suddenly realized that we had ourselves a Li’l Sebastian.
As a Parks and Recreation enthusiast, I could see the show’s occasional guest star—a miniature horse that embodied the quirky community of fictitious Pawnee, IN—come to life in Gary the Charter Colony Turkey.
Daily, Gary is bringing smiles to the faces of weary commuters. More than 5,800 current followers attest to this fact, as well as “We Brake for Gary” car decals and turkey T-shirt sales benefitting a local organization.
Family members visiting from all over the country, and beyond, have driven by to witness the infamous Gary. No doubt the epitome of Ben Franklin’s “bird of courage” description, he has been known to daringly redirect traffic and to perch atop the lights. Both courageous and dedicated, he dutifully continues to greet passersby, despite rain and snow. Timestamped photos of Gary sightings and concern for his well-being flood the feed. And it is evident that Gary has the unexplainable power to turn the grumpiest traveler into a giddy explorer.
Picture stoic, unflappable Ron Swanson giggling and gushing like a kid in a candy store every time Li’l Sebastian entered the scene. The mere fact that no one knew why he was so special is part of what made him special. After the mini horse’s untimely death, Ron confessed, “I have cried twice in my life. Once, when I was seven and I was hit by a school bus. And then again, when I heard that Li’l Sabastian had passed.” It’s this type of affection and delight that defies all logic and reason.
It unites a community with unexplainable, contagious joy.
This symbol of Thanksgiving trots on common ground, reminding his neighbors to stay vigilantly aware of the unexpected beauty and simple goodness hidden throughout our surroundings. Birds of all feathers have flocked together due to his feathered existence.
To use the words of Parks and Recreation’s overly optimistic leader, Leslie Knope, Gary is our friend, a legend, a beacon of light; he is Charter Colony’s Turkey.
So, if you visit our little corner of Pawnee, be sure to brake for Li’l Gary. And then share with someone that smile he just put on your face—the nonsensical joy of witnessing something special.
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