Chapter Text
The first incident occurred rookie season. Ilya parked his car at Boston’s practice facility and opened his phone to check his messages before he went inside. After reading through and responding where appropriate, he put his phone in his pocket and turned to open his car door when- What the fuck was that.
In just the short time he had been parked, a group of birds, big ass birds, had gathered around his vehicle. The biggest roundest one was outside his door, facing him. It looked mean and it looked like it was waiting for him.
It was not a bird from Russia. He could not remember its English name.
He opened his phone again.
Marly. I cannot come to practice today. There is a chicken. :You
Marleau: What? A chicken?
Big one with too many feathers. It is too round :You
Marleau: What are you looking at?
It has a tail :You
Marleau: Most birds have a tail
It is like peacock but ugly. It has bumps :You
Marleau: A turkey?
American dinner bird :You
Yes turkey :You
It has small army :You
Marleau: Just come in. It will be fine
Ilya looked at the big round turkey doubtfully. Having an idea, he pressed loudly on his car horn. The birds didn’t even move.
They are not scared of car :You
They will beat me :You
Marleau: Can you drive around?
Marleau: Coach is asking for you
Ilya grumbled, but put his car into reverse. He ever so carefully pulled out of the spot, fearing that a sudden movement would send the army after him. He kept reversing until he couldn’t anymore and then drove to the far corner of the parking lot. He would enter the building through a side entrance.
This was far from his last encounter with the turkeys.
The next day Ilya had to pull into the parking lot very slowly because the turkeys were taking a leisurely stroll across the pavement and did not care in the slightest that a giant murder machine was steadily approaching. If nothing else, he could at least appreciate their confidence.
Inching past the turkeys, Ilya chose a spot near where he normally parked, not wanting to surrender so easily, but a little closer to the front entrance, just in case. Thinking he was in the clear, he stepped out of his car. When he closed the door with a smack the turkeys garbled out the most horrific noises and he jumped. It was not a sound Ilya had ever heard from a bird, and not a sound he thought should come from a bird.
He walked very quickly to the entrance.
During practice he worried that he would come outside to find the turkeys forming an impenetrable wall around his car. Was he brave enough to get past them? Sure he took hits in hockey all the time, but this was different. He was gravely outnumbered here and hockey players didn’t normally have beaks or claws.
Thankfully his car was safe when he got out, but for how long? His recent conversations with his teammates gave him the impression that the turkeys weren’t going away anytime soon. Ilya needed a plan. Seeing that he was outnumbered, maybe he could win with intelligence. And bribery. Mostly bribery.
Ilya bought a bag of bird seed.
At the next practice Ilya left his car and cautiously approached the grassy strip at the edge of the parking lot, near where the turkeys were congregating, covering the pavement with their poop, but not so close that it was dangerous. Slowly, trying not to make a sound in case it alerted them, he opened the bag, watching the big round one, The General as he dubbed him, for any sign of escalation. Ilya reached in, closed his hand around the biggest handful of bird seed he could manage, slowly lifted it out, and then when his hand left the bag, chucked the bird seed at the grass and started backing away rapidly, knowing better than to turn his back on them.
The turkeys didn’t move immediately, but one of them went over to investigate, and when she started pecking at the seeds the others walked over to inspect the new food source.
“Da. There. Stay,” he spoke to them, deciding English was probably the language the American birds knew best.
He stashed his bird seed in his car and went into practice.
Ilya made this a routine. If the big fat birds just stayed over there, they couldn’t hurt him. His plan was flawless, or so he thought.
The birds started to expect him, watching him intently as he approached and scattered bird seed. Their eye contact freaked him out at first but he started to get used to it.
One day he stayed late at the practice rink the day after a hard loss, running drills until he was the last one there. When he swung open the door to the parking lot, the turkeys surprisingly were standing nearby. They didn’t normally get that close to the building. They looked at him with their beady eyes.
Ilya didn’t hesitate. He kept walking. He looked over his shoulder. Some of the turkeys were starting to follow in his direction, not too quickly, but… Ilya walked faster. He glanced back again. The turkeys walked faster. Ilya tightened his grip on his bag and sped up more. The turkeys remained in pursuit.
He unlocked his car and quickly swung his bag into the back seat. He looked over his shoulder as he closed the door and saw the turkeys standing a few paces away, in wait. He opened his front door, got the bird seed, and started throwing handfuls in the direction of the turkeys, cursing under his breath in Russian. Luckily, the food served as a good distraction and the birds turned away from him. Ilya got in his car, carefully pulled out, and drove home.
He worried overnight about this escalation, but the next day he was able to park without a hitch. He decided though, maybe he shouldn’t feed the turkeys this time. They were getting too spoiled.
Practice went as usual, then, as the team left, the first player out the door turned around and asked, “Rozy? Is that your new car?”
Pushing past his teammates, Ilya stepped outside and saw what caused the attention. The turkeys had stolen his car.
Well, not like, driven off with it. But they had his shiny red sports car that he bought with his first rookie paycheck completely surrounded. There was no way past them. The General was even standing on the hood! They hadn’t gotten their bird seed and had taken matters into their own hands, or, uh, wings?
He cursed under his breath and then turned around to ask, “Americans! Connors, you are American, yes? Can we make Thanksgiving?”
Some of his teammates laughed and one of them chimed in, “Man, I’d kill for some stuffing right now.”
Connors gave Ilya a strange look and said, “I dunno, just get big and yell at them and they’ll leave.”
“That won’t… make worse?” Ilya asked, imagining the army attacking in formation.
Marleau gently pushed past him. “Let me show you man.”
So, that’s how a horde of hockey players ended up marching on a flock of turkeys, waving their arms in the air, shouting incoherent noises and… yodeling? Yes, someone was yodeling. Poorly, but it was effective against the turkeys. The smaller ones started to leave. The General hopped down and ruffled up his feathers. Ilya thought for a moment this was the turkey’s command to attack, but then The General turned, and ever so slowly and obstinately meandered after his infantry.
Marleau clapped Ilya on the back. “That’ll do it.”
His teammates left for their vehicles, teasing and joking as they went, and when Ilya got into his, he saw that The General had shat on his windshield.
The next day, Ilya sat in the parking lot, drumming his fingers on his steering wheel, and watching the turkeys in his rear view mirror. He did not want to feed them. He was worried they would start following him again or soliciting his vehicle. In one swift motion he opened the door and stepped out of the car, then grabbed his bag, and strode as quickly as he could to the back door. He tried to make his speed look confident and eager for practice, rather than scared, in case anyone was watching.
When he got inside, one of the second year players was telling a story about how he’d left his car and found the turkeys at the back, one of them attacking its reflection in his car’s bumper! This… definitely wasn’t Ilya’s fault, right? No, of course not.
Ilya stayed late after practice again, practicing his corner shots. It was the last practice before the All Star Game and he wanted to get some extra precision training for the skills contest. When it was time to leave he opened the door and jumped back suddenly, exclaiming a curse and letting it swing closed. He knew no one would believe him if he told them, but The General had been standing right outside the door, facing him, lying in wait. He was sure if he opened the door again The General would jump him and pickpocket him for food. Ilya had a protein bar on him that he didn’t want to share.
He went out a different door and hurried to his car, looking both ways for potential turkey attacks. When he got in his car he hesitated for a moment. It was about to be All Star Break. Maybe the turkeys would forget and move on to greener pastures. But… Ilya was pretty sure those little shits had memory. And, he had most of a big bag of bird seed left and nothing to do with it. He wasn’t sure how long the whole bag would last them, but it should sate them for a while right? Then they’d get big and fat and too lazy to attack. Yes, that sounded like a good plan, probably.
Ilya dropped the bag on the strip of grass, letting most of it spill out. Then he hurried back to his car and drove off. That was dealt with.
The day before they returned to practice the team got a message from Coach saying to get to practice early.
“Shit. Who fucked up?” someone sent in the team group chat.
Not me, Ilya thought confidently. I just had my first All Star Game. As a rookie.
When he got to practice the next day there was an unfamiliar face. Once everyone was seated, Coach introduced him.
“This is John. He’s the owner of our practice facility. John, the floor is yours.”
Players exchanged glances.
John stood from his seat. “As you may know, the Boston Raiders are not the only people who use this facility. We have several other customers. It is important that we keep the parking lot clean and orderly, and free of hazards. Before you left I’m sure many of you noticed the turkeys.”
That wasn’t my fault! Ilya thought instantly.
“Now I know not all of you are from places with turkeys, so allow me to explain. Turkeys are wild animals. They should not be fed. If they are fed they may become accustomed to people and begin to approach without fear. Then, they can become aggressive and pose problems to children or the elderly or cause property damage.”
Oh… um…
“I understand one of you has been feeding the turkeys.”
Ilya thought about protesting, but decided it might raise suspicion.
“I understand you may have had good intentions, but you need to understand that each of us needs to be able to enter and leave the facility without obstruction. We have a middle school team that practices here. I do not want those children getting attacked by turkeys.”
Ilya imagined those poor small kids, probably unaccustomed to the weight of their hockey gear, being flattened by turkeys. He understood.
“I hope I have explained myself. There will be no punishment, but please, do not feed the turkeys.”
“How do you know we were feeding them?” someone finally asked.
John reached into a canvas bag at his side and took out… the empty bird seed bag. Oh. Ilya hadn’t realized that could be used as evidence.
“I will not name names, but we do have CCTV. If I find that the turkeys have been fed again, I will discuss this personally with the offender. Understood?”
Everyone nodded. Ilya, luckily, had perfected his poker face at this point.
“Thank you John,” Coach said, standing up and shaking his hand. “I’m sure this won’t happen again.”
“I’m sure it won’t,” John said with a tight smile. He briefly met Ilya’s eyes as he left the room.
As soon as he left Ilya got up from his seat.
“Oooookayyyy boys, who’s ready for practice?”
John seemed fun at parties.