I'm not even sure they can wink.

 

Sitting here I can see a wild turkey out on the front lawn.  There is a short physical distance between it and myself. There is an even greater distance between our awareness of our surroundings, our general knowledge and our trust of each other.  And yet, here we are, residing on the same planet, in approximately the same geographic location, at the same time in history.

We are both life forms, although completely different.  Each of us walks on two legs, yet he has feathers, while I have jeans and a sweatshirt.  He picks at the ground, and I pick at my brussels sprouts.  Only one of us celebrates Thanksgiving.

His cognitive ability seems to stem from and be controlled by survival, while mine focuses more on proper punctuation and the observable universe.

I doubt I could depend on him should something threaten us.  I expect he would exercise his right to fly, leaving me behind to fend for myself.

He has already wandered around to the back side of the house, out of my view.  Although I can no longer see him, I still know of him, while he never noticed me to begin with.  If he did, he never acknowledged me, no wink or head nod.  Nothing.