The Return of the Turkeys, Manomet, Plymouth, Massachusetts, USA

I heard them before I saw them. The sound didn't register at first. They have been gone during much  of winter. I thought maybe the sound was on the radio. And then, there they were, outside the window on this cold, windy morning in the first week of spring, standing tall and making that gobbling sound, and, alternately pecking in the unfrozen ground for bugs. Maybe they will roost in the trees here tonight, and I will look up and see their large dark silhouette. I hope so. They don't know about the coronavirus or anything like that. They simply live in the moment until they don't. There is something to be said for that. It is spring, yes, and all the world is anew.