of turkeys and the plague.

Someone once told me that when plagues come, the teachers are the first to die.

I have reason to believe this is true. Since I began teaching I have probably spent three quarters of the time ill. It’s not really a big surprise –being coughed and sneezed on by unwashed thirteen year-olds from 8:30 to 3:30 every day is not conducive to good health. Come evening a guy just wants to boil himself in bleach.

This latest round of flu - the third since Christmas - seems particularly vicious. I’m feverish and shaky, but I’ve come to work all the same thanks to a charming policy we have requiring teachers to find their own subs.

In my feverish state I’ve suddenly developed an odd urge – the urge to become a turkey owner.

Some people might think that sudden urge to be a turkey owner sounds a little crazy.

I dispute that statement.

The sudden urge to invade Poland is crazy. The sudden urge to engage trees in discourse is crazy. The sudden urge to have a bird of prehistoric appearance wandering the yard is eccentric.

“But Stu,” you ask, “What does your wife have to say about this?”

Dear reader, fear not. My beautiful wife is quite used to my sudden inexplicable schemes. Anyway, how could one not want a giant gobbling dinosaur in her yard? Why else would one move to the farm?

“But Stu,” you inquire, “What could you possibly know about keeping a turkey?”

So many questions, dear reader!

I will learn, my friend. When you have the urge to be self-sufficient it’s surprising what you can figure out.

Besides, I have lived in Alberta my entire life – anyone who has lived that long under the provincial conservatives knows a thing or two about turkeys.

Where's the black army when you need them?

Whenever I see this picture I can just imagine the premier and cabinet deep inside their chambers, rubbing their hands in fiendish delight.


Not being one of the provincial government's core supporters, I tend to feel as if Alberta is being run by a group of power-hungry maniacs. To date I have seen nothing to prove otherwise.

Just try saying that around here though - Endiang is smack-dab in the middle of Conservative country. Federally I think this has been shown to be the single most conservative riding in the country. Provincially my riding has been home to premier Don Getty, deputy premier Shirley McLellen, and now Infrastructure minister Jack Hayden. No bones about it - this is conservative ground zero.

For now.

During the couple of years that I lived in Edmonton I learned that there was one major thing that the farm offered that the city didn't - freedom. Look at it this way - when I was growing up I used to take off most days and just walk wherever I wanted. Maybe I would go snowshoeing or fishing or shoot gophers. Maybe I would ride my horse or play my bagpipes or roast a bag of marshmallows out in the coulee. It didn't really matter what I did because I had the freedom to choose. Living in Edmonton drove home the idea of just how lucky I was to have ever had that freedom in the first place.

Those years in town almost killed me - by the time I left I was a complete wreck. When I got back to the farm that spring I soaked myself in freedom like it was a hot bath, and man did it feel good. Still does.

For now.

Have you heard of Bill 19?

Charming little thing, really: it seems that the Minister of Infrastructure would like to be able to have his way with our land - any one's land actually. There are these bits about the province being able to tie up your land indefinitely if they think they may one day want to build something on it - things like power lines or highways or pipelines or just about anything that strikes their fancy. And then if they change their mind fifteen years later they can choose not to deal with messy things like compensation.

Of course, if you choose not to comply with the provincial diktats they are happy to extend to you a $100,000 dollar fine or a brief stay in prison.

So if the bill passes I may have to bid adieu to that freedom I've enjoyed on my family's own land - at least when the Minister decides that a high tension power line would look lovely in my back yard.

Gentle reader, fear not - freedom yet reigns supreme on the brush plain. Even now I hear murmurs in the enemy camp and the murmurs are talking mutiny.

People of Alberta: pick up your torches! Raise your pitchforks to the air! Let us storm the legislature and let democracy finally shine throughout the land!

Or else you can sign the petition. It's your choice, really.