I'm Worried About The Turkeys and What It's Like To Be An Empath

Photo by Jp Valery on Unsplash

My daughter has to be at school at a ridiculous time. Every morning, when my alarm goes off I can’t believe that I have to get up and leave the house before the sun is up at 7a. I’m a morning person, don’t get me wrong, but having to be somewhere by 7:15a is a lot different than getting up early and lingering in my pajamas until daylight. The only good thing about this is that our route to school is through the park. It’s roughly 400 acres of woods, hiking trails and dense forest that sits right in the middle of the city. Because it’s such a concentrated refuge of woods surrounded by interstates and city streets, there is a myriad of wildlife. And at 7am, they are just waking up.

Almost every morning we see a family of deer. Bucks, Doe, and fawns all rising to the morning. We see hawks and owls. We see the fox (not a fox because I’m pretty sure she is the only one). We’ve seen coyotes, turtles and an otter in the creek once too. I grew up in a rural area and never saw this much wildlife.

When school started this year, I noticed a family of turkeys (plural? turkai? turkay?). There was a momma and six babies. The babies were so tiny. They literally looked like the butterball turkeys in the store but covered in feathers following their mama wherever she went. At first, it was so wonderful seeing them. I would stop the car and say “Good Morning Little Babies!” every time we saw them eating the grass along the outskirts of the park.

As the months passed, the turkeys’ grew. By October, they were still in the same area, but by now it was hard to differentiate between the mother and the babies because they were all the same size. “Good morning!” I would stop and say, feeling delighted at their growth and development.

In January, things started to change. For starters, there were now only four turkeys. I began to wonder if mother’s leave once the turkeys get a little older. Google said that turkey babies (hens) only stay with their mother for four to five months. This would account for at least one missing turkey. By now, instead of hanging out on the sidelines of the park, the turkeys were hanging out in the street causing a traffic jam. I’m assuming this is because they were now becoming teenagers and had no use for their mother’s wise words-be careful, stay in the park. This was a feeling I was familiar with as one of my own little turkey’s was approaching age 13 and having less and less use for my wisdom.

The “turkey jams” (traffic jams caused by turkeys standing in the road) began to become part of our routine. Instead of saying “good morning,” I would find myself saying to myself oh please get out of the road and are you guys okay? It was getting so bad that one time, my daughter was late for school and her friend asked “Are you late because of the turkeys?”

I began to feel personally responsible for these wild birds. I thought about them a lot. I would slow down and look for them every time I drove past their area. I started to fear the worst, that the other two turkeys were hit by cars. I began googling things like “how to keep turkeys safe” and “how to properly care for wild turkeys” (btw-the response was LEAVE THEM ALONE).

Fast forward to last week, and there were only two turkeys holding up the road. Instead of doing their usual thing, standing in the middle of the road staring at the cars wondering why the cars were blocking their trail, they were frantically running back and forth almost like they were protesting (damn you humans for killing my kin-or at least this is the story I’m telling myself). The people in the cars were angry and short tempered. They were beeping, waving their hands and one car went full speed nearly hitting one of my bird, er-the birds.

These people may have just been passing through and didn’t realize that these two turkeys used to have a whole family by their side. They didn’t understand that this part of the road was shared with us humans because it was paved right through the park. I wanted to get out of my car and nicely explain to everyone to “just be patient.” I feared that some deranged and angry person was going to pull out a shotgun and kill them right then and there. Finally the turkeys got off the road and onto the grassy edge so that the angry and rushed people to get on with their important lives.

I began to daydream about somehow grooming the turkeys to come live in my yard so that we could keep an eye on them and keep the last of what was left of them safe. I told my husband that I was worried about the turkeys, he really didn’t respond. I looked up the cost of a fence. I googled how to domesticate wild birds. Again, Google said to LEAVE THEM ALONE, not to bother wildlife in their natural habitat (which in this case was quite urban).

This is what it’s like being an empath.

You’re just going about your day trying to ward off the burden of the world, but then these turkeys seem to need help. My motto becomes if not me then who? It’s exhausting. And if I’m feeling this way about turkeys, you can only imagine the despair I feel about humans. The ones who are facing so much oppression right now. The ones who are losing rights, services and hope. The ones who are hungry, homeless and hurting. It’s why I’ve devoted my whole life to social work in some form or another. It’s why I decided to work at a homeless shelter for women and children on a whim. It’s why I lay awake most nights right now. If not me, who?

The real question I have isn’t really about the safety of the turkeys it’s about the children, my children, the black and brown men and women in my communities, my immigrant neighbors, the rivers, the Earth, those hungry, in need of housing, those suffering and more. Are they okay? How can I help them? And if you’re wondering, I have googled about these things too. “How to start a non profit?”

I don’t know the answers. Not about the turkeys or the world.

As for the turkeys, maybe my story is wrong and that the other turkeys have met lovers and are off to new and wonderful places. Maybe they fled to a safer and kinder wooded area with more room for growth, more inclusion and more love.

As for the world, I think my story is right, people are suffering. The victims and the perpetrators. Unhealed people hurt people.

But one thing that sobriety has taught me is that when you show up doing the next right thing over and over again, change can happen. It’s not a giant monumental shift that happens overnight. It’s hardly even noticeable at all. But showing up in small ways can make change. This I know for sure.

For me right now that means doubling down on my mental health practices (meditation, down time, get my news from the right source, stay off social media) and choosing compassion and love over judgement and fear. I’m not numb this time around which makes things tricky (because I have to feel all this shit while also worrying about the turkeys) but also powerful (I am wide awake and can show up). I can show my kids to care about turkeys but also strangers. I can teach the understanding that things don’t have to happen directly to me for it to matter to me/us. I can smile kindly, respond respectfully and use my voice when I need to in order to stand up for myself and the people I care about. Day by day, if I keep this up, change will happen. I’m sure of it.

If you’ve never felt worried about a turkey or another object/human/animal that has nothing to do with you at all, I expect you to think I’m crazy. Thank gawd that not everyone in the world is an empath! I’m actually quite jealous of you. But if you have felt worried about things like wild turkeys or a sick baby squirrel (or even a stuffed animal), then all of this is just to say that I see you. And same girl. Same.

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