It's October in New England, just at the front of the month. It's a crisp afternoon, bright and sunny, but darkened by lots of oak trees alongside the car. I'm driving through a little forest near my hometown, on a little-traveled "country road," that runs through the Moose Hill section of Walpole. Out to the left of the window, in the great sunny field on top of the hill, nine wild turkeys. The last one in line was huge. I mean, huge. I turned the car around at the next turnoff, circled back and pulled off the right side of the road alongside the hill field. I watched those turkeys for a while, then slid into second gear going downhill and around a tight corner. That alone was a good suburban outing, but there was more in store at McDonald's out on the highway.