Glancing out my window on a dusky evening, I’m startled to see a huge bird perching on my neighbor’s garage, just a few yards away.
What at first appears to be a prehistoric avian is in fact the neighborhood turkey. I didn’t know turkeys could fly that high.
Why do we have a neighborhood turkey, you ask. Good question. Wild turkeys are not that unusual here, of course, and often wander by in pairs, the tom spreading his tail feathers as if to impress his female companion and ward off foes.
But this turkey is different. He’s been on the street, solo, for weeks. He favors the driveway across the street where he gobbles incessantly, and pecks at his reflection in the two black cars parked there. He intimidates the teenager who lives nearby, whose dad tries, with little success, to gently shoo him away with a hose.
Does the turkey hope his reflection in the cars might be a female? Is he looking for love in all the wrong places?
Later, in the early morning, the pounding rain awakens me. I close the bedroom window, but it’s too dark to see if the turkey is still roosting in the deluge. Poor old turkey.
I think of the poem, “Good Morning” by Mary Oliver, that great scribe of the natural world.
“The multiplicity of forms! The hummingbird, the fox, the raven, the sparrow hawk, the otter, the dragonfly, the water lily! And on and on. It must be a great disappointment to God if we are not dazzled at least ten times a day.”
I admit, the turkey dazzles me. And if we ever forget that God and the grandeur of the natural world are inexorably linked, we have only to take a prayerful nature walk. Or read the first few chapters of Genesis, with God proclaiming the work of creation good.
Or read the beautiful lines of Psalm 104: “How varied are your works, Lord!/In wisdom you have made them all;/ the earth is full of your creatures.”
Pope Francis, like St. Francis of Assisi, proclaimed the connection between our Creator and the creation we must honor and preserve. His “Laudato Si” was a strong voice warning against the havoc of climate change and our tendency toward consumerism. Humans use the works of creation, but they are obliged to do so judiciously, while respecting the earth.
So, like many, I was shocked to read the words of the Environmental Protection Agency’s administrator, Lee Zeldin. In planning to roll back large numbers of environmental regulations, Zeldin said he was “driving a dagger through the heart of the climate-change religion.”
Because of our Catholic faith, I found jarring the use of the word “religion” in such a violent metaphor. Indeed, for people of all faiths throughout the world concerned about the existential crisis which climate change poses, protecting the earth is part of our spirituality.
Every new administration has the need and right to review regulations. But ever since the 1960s and Rachel Carson’s famous book, “Silent Spring,” the U.S. has gradually moved toward regulations controlling air and water pollution and toward higher energy efficiency. Her book changed hearts and opened minds, and today our waters and air are less polluted. Nevertheless, our progress is slow.
Regulations must not be relaxed for the sake of corporate greed, but must be built on the common good of all, including our grandchildren. It’s what our faith teaches, and it’s really as simple as that.
Outside, the turkey gobbles. I praise God, remembering to be dazzled.
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