I looked up the other day and this is what I saw.
I see wild turkeys in the yard all the time. There's a substantial slope back there, so the turkeys are right at eye level. Sometimes they stop and peer in at me, especially if the windows are open and I'm making a racket. I'll be singing to myself and suddenly I'll look up to see a turkey or two staring back at me looking even more confused than usual. Everybody's a critic.
But this time the windows were closed and I wasn't singing. Mr. Turkey was pacing back and forth, staring at me through the window, clearly agitated, tail feathers straining. Can he tell I'm making chicken? Is there a poultry alliance I'm not aware of? I continued chopping my vegetables. Meanwhile, he proceeded with his very important turkey business, whatever that might be, which appeared to involve nothing but pacing and staring at me through the window for 15 more minutes. I searched his beady eyes. Is he mistaking me for a suitable mate? He continued pacing and staring, pacing and staring, tail feathers fanned and vibrating. I cranked open the window and yelled out: Shoo, Turkey! I'm not available!
That only seemed to encourage him. Typical.
Then I went into another room to get a better look. There she was: a female turkey perched on a fallen tree a short distance away. She had been out of view of the kitchen window. She was preening herself nonchalantly. Clearly the show wasn't intended for me at all.
I'll admit I was a little disappointed. That was the most male attention I'd gotten all week.