You ever get that feeling…
that something is unfolding just outside your awareness?
Not a sound.
Not a thought.
More like… a disturbance in the Force.
Or, in my case, a disturbance in the underbrush.
There I was—head down, mind wandering somewhere between coffee #1 and existential clarity—when my peripheral vision filed a formal complaint.
“Sir… there appears to be… a situation.”
I glanced up.
A dark, moving blob.
Now, I’ve learned in life that when a blob moves with purpose, you should probably pay attention.
Then—color.
Then—feathers.
Then—THE FAN.
And not just any fan.
No, this was a full, Broadway-level, show-stopping, jazz-hands-out, tail-feather extravaganza that screamed:
“Ladies… please form an orderly line.”
Ladies and gentlemen…
We had ourselves a Tom.
I couldn’t see the hens yet—but let’s be honest—
no one struts like that without an audience.
That’s not confidence.
That’s performance art.
I grabbed the camera like a man who just realized he accidentally walked into a live episode of Wild Kingdom: Dating Edition.
And there they were.
The full cast:
• One Tom (lead actor, clearly SAG eligible)
• Several hens (judging panel, unimpressed but intrigued)
• And a Jake…
…awkwardly trying to figure out if he’s invited or just… present.
Now the Tom…
Oh, the Tom.
He was feeling it.
Chest puffed.
Feathers shimmering.
Walking like he had just signed a record deal and was late for dinner with Cole Porter.
Every move said:
“Look at me.
Admire me.
I am both the meal and the entertainment.”
And the hens?
Let’s just say they had that classic look of:
“We’ve seen this before…
but go on, continue.”
It was magnificent.
It was ridiculous.
It was… deeply relatable.
And then…
…they saw me.
Now, I don’t know exactly what they said.
But I’m fairly certain the Tom’s internal monologue went from:
“Behold my glory…”
to
“…and scene.”
In an instant—
The romance.
The rhythm.
The entire woodland production of “Fifty Shades of Gobble”—
Gone.
They scattered like someone yelled,
“FREE FOOD AT THE OTHER END OF THE FIELD!”
And just like that…
The show was over.
And me?
I stood there…
Camera in hand…
The only audience member
to a performance that will never be repeated exactly the same way again.
I lowered the lens.
Smiled.
And went back to work.
Because sometimes…
you don’t interrupt nature.
You just get…
appropriately interrupted by it.
Naturally.
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