There have been a couple of times this summer that my training buddy Jill and I have ridden through Yellow House Canyon on our way to "Slay the Dragon Hill." Why it is called "Slay the Dragon" is a story for another time and place, for tonight what I want to talk about is this little shady stretch of road along the way. Of course, in Texas in the summer, any patch of shade feels like mercy raining down from the heavens, but this one seems especially cool and restful since it comes at a point in the trip when any dragon slayers who happen to be wheeling down the asphalt have started to tire of looking at endless, table-flat fields of cotton blistering in the yellow heat. There you are, slightly delirious and sick and thinking that all the world looks like picnic lunch that got left in the sun too long, when suddenly the road drops down into the canyon and a tunnel of leafiness appears before you like some kind of miracle. It is as if from out of nowhere on a hot day, a generous stranger hands you a cold drink of water and says, "Here. It's going to be all right."
I'd show you a picture of it, but you can't take a picture of a miracle. Everybody knows that.
Anyway. Each time we've ridden through this stretch of road, we've scared up this flock of wild turkeys. And each time, I make Jill stop so I can try to take a picture of them with my iPhone. I guess turkeys think they are miracles, because it's been awfully hard to get them to stick around long enough to get a good shot.
Um, maybe that was a poor choice of words...
Certainly, the turkeys seem to be skittish and camera shy, but the last time we rode through there, I finally managed to get a picture of one. It's kind of hard to see, so I've put an arrow in to help you:
Hmmm. It looks like it's still a bit difficult to make out. I'll see if I can enlarge it a tad to help you. I think if I click on this little thingey, and drag that little doodad...
There. How about now?
I swear, it looked just like that.