Sexy Spring


My wife and I had just pedal down my favorite two-mile stretch of road. It is relatively straight with a 1% grade from stop sign to stop sign. When I make the right hand turn on to this road I put it in my big ring, mash the pedals and take off. If the wind is at my back I will hit speeds of 25 to 30 mph. Big fun on skinny tires.

At the end of the road we always stop to catch our breath and drink some water. Last night was no different except for the sounds that greeted us among the pastures, cows, and the occasional car whizzing by, frogs, horny frogs to be specific.

There is a large marshy area across the street from where we rest and two days of rain have made this a swampy paradise. Last night we were treated to a loud chorus of horny frogs looking for their Miss Everything or at least there Miss Right Now. The sound was deafening and at the same time amusing. I can only assume this swamp was filled with old timers and dare I say virgins, all competing for the attention of females, which for us males, is the ultimate competition.

The signs of Spring are everywhere. Pastures are filled with baby calves, my car is covered in yellow oak tassels, and my grass needs to be cut, again. But nothing says Spring like the parade of horny woodland males trying to find a mate.

Last night we were about ten miles away from finishing our ride when my wife spotted a male turkey in a beautiful pasture at the edge of the woods. He was strutting around in full plume. It was a remarkable dance to watch. Though it was getting dark I suggested we hang around for a minute to see if he was “successful” enticing some swinging single female out on to the dance floor. She asked how did I know that there were females in the woods? Oh, I knew. I have seen that strut before, hell, I have been in that parade a time or two, thirty plus years ago. I might have even “won” the attention of Mrs. Ends and Beginnings strutting around in my cleanest pair of khaki’s, Polo shirt, and top-siders lathered in Jovan Musk Oil. But she would never admit to that.

Sure enough, two females came out of the thicket and the old Tom made a beeline for one of them. I am not sure how he chose which one to pursue. Me, I would have picked the slowest one. There is certainly no reason to spend much needed and better served energy chasing a one night turkey stand.

Yes, Spring has sprung. The grass is green, the weather is crisp, the flowers are in bloom and the woods are filled with…

About ends and beginnings blog

I am a frustrated writer and poet waiting to be discovered. A stand-up philosopher performing on a street corner near you. A Christian with questions but I don’t want to hear your answers. A Buddhist with a bumper sticker on my truck to prove it. A collector of quotes. A grower of lettuce. The Patron Saint of earthworms who name their children after me. A cyclist whose big ass strains the seams of his Lycra bibs. I am American by birth, Southern by the grace of God. My goal in life is to leave an imprint on the lives of the people I love not a footprint on the earth. I am a son, a husband, a father composed of 65%-Oxygen, 18%-Carbon, 10%-Hydrogen, 3%-Nitrogen, 3%-Diet Coke and 1%-Oreo.
This entry was posted in discover wp, Life, Thoughts, Writing and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to Sexy Spring

  1. All us “turkeys” got our own style, don’t we?

    Liked by 1 person

  2. The birds twittering, and the woodpeckers pecking away at my apple tree I love it all.

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s