I was making my way down a dusty back road, minding my own business, when I was startled by an Unknown Flying Object that swooped down across the hood of my SUV. I hit the brakes, came to a stop and threw the vehicle in park.

“Holy sh*t, was that a dog?” I blurted out to my daughter, who was in the passenger’s seat.

She turned to look at me, her eyebrows furrowed and her mouth contorted. “Really?” she said in her matter-of-fact, teenager tone. “A flying dog?”

“Well, what the h*ll was it then? Do you think it was an eagle? Too big to be a chicken…” I said to her, as my eyes darted back and forth across the road.

“Where did it go? WAS it a chicken?? DO YOU SEE A CHICKEN?!?!?” I said in increasing octaves.

“That was no chicken,” she whispered as she pointed out the window and toward a house, her eyebrows now raised in astonishment.

I turned just in time to see the Unidentified Flying Object’s accomplice take flight from the rooftop of the house and soar straight into the side of my SUV. It hit with a dull thump and landed on the road in a pile of dust.

“Turkey?” I speculated.

Just then, a tiny, wisp of a woman bounded out of the front door and across the road to where we were stopped.

“Sorry about that!” she breathlessly shouted through the window. “They get a little carried away sometimes. Don’t worry, they’re just fine,” she assured me.

She spun around on her heals, let out a strange whooping, warbling sound and was immediately followed by two peacocks which ran out from behind my SUV.

“Peacocks?” I said incredulously to my daughter.

“Yup, peacocks,” she answered back.