It could have gone either way.
Our house was gleaming after many weeks of polishing and primping, ready for the market, come what may. And now a very interested party was poised at the front door. It was their second visit and they had brought back their children, their friends and even the nanny, for a second viewing.
As we all milled around the porch, suddenly out of nowhere a wild turkey shot through the courtyard.
I immediately wondered if this was the make or break moment. Would they see the magnificent bird as I do? No matter how many I see, I marvel that these all-American bronze beauties share habitat with me. They are shimmering iridescence on the run. A bundle of barred feathers linking history and present.
Or would they see sharp claws on long leathery legs, the rangy, unfurled brown body no bigger than a bowling pin streaking through their potential patio and think it a little too close to nature? Would they fix on the red, wrinkly wattle and not notice that purposeful stride?
The littlest girl turned and I saw her eyes widen. Uh-oh. Was she frightened?
Then her mother turned, smiled and said, "Alex loves birds, she knows them all".
I don' t know if her parents were already sold on the home. They say that decision usually happens within 30 seconds of stepping in the door. But I figured I might have a buyer, even if she was only eight. I told her about the bald eagles that fish in the channel and the herons that perch on that first snag from the dock. I asked her if she knew a certain type of woodpecker that drum in the woods, which I pronounced pie-lee-ated. She sweetly corrected me, "You mean pill-ee-ated woodpeckers?"
