Brush Turkey beware

It's the Australian brush turkey, I was told. A turkey. But it sounded like a rooster, and exhibited the characteristics of the same. Namely, its dawn call.

But it was different, see, because there were several of them. Roosters do their own thing, but these things travel in packs, like ADD middle-schoolers at a mall. And they only hang out at night, right outside my cabin, when I can't see them -- but I can hear them.

And the noise, it was BEFORE dawn. It would be like if you took a bunch of roosters, and then you gave them coffee and cotton candy and crystal meth, and then you just picked them up and you shook them for 30 seconds, and plucked a few of their feathers, and then placed them back down. Inside my skull.

Brush Turkey beware -- I know you now, you and your crackhead jungle-bird ilk. I've seen pictures. And if I see you, you'll wish I hadn't.