The story I’m going to tell you now is absolutely true. There’s not a single invention in it, not even a tiny one. And why does a writer in need to think anything up? life does it for us. Its inventiveness simply can’t fit in our little heads!

On Saturdays I like to go to the market, armed with a spacious French bag made of flax. As a suspicious and distrusting person, I carefully look at the products that are laid out, and the faces of the sellers above them. I try to understand the secret intrigues and vices that are hidden in them.

For some reason, sellers of marinated salty food are especially radiant and cheerful. Evidently there’s a link between the nature of the product and the person selling it, and what’s a pickle, after all? It’s a classic. So in the world of the market, sellers of pickles are especially firm and confident.

But on the faces of sellers in the poultry section, where chickens and turkeys are on sale, strange shadows have recently appeared.

The problem is that among the ordinary local chickens on sale, some mysterious parts of unknown birds have appeared. The names say: “turkey leg”, “turkey neck”, “turkey wing”. But if you put together these separate parts into the original bird, you start to think that it’s not a turkey. Or it’s a fantastic turkey that is much more than a meter high. It’s leg is half a meter long, and its terrifying neck and enormous wings resemble a pterodactyl’s. I looked at these mysterious body parts, and I suddenly shouted: “Heavens, what sort of turkey is that you’ve got there! It’s an ostrich, not a turkey!”

The seller looked at me with a certain respect, and quietly replied: “It is actually an ostrich…”

An ostrich?!

And then it struck me.

I remembered that some time ago I saw some crazy person on television talking about the extremely delicious qualities of the ostrich as an edible bird, and the urgent need to bring this foreign wonder to . This nutcase, of course, was armed by numerous statistics and had a gleam in his eyes, which without any statistics convinced us that the fate of the ostrich had been decided: the ostrich is a Russian bird. People with the same gleam in their eyes over the teachings of Marx once also decided the fate of . Marxism was imported, adopted and introduced with an amazing result…

For some time, there was nothing known about the fate of ostriches as Russian birds. Then there was some alarming news: there were catastrophes on the farm, the ostriches were disappearing and we were once more deprived of the delicious qualities of this miraculous fowl. But the nutcase did not give in. I kept finding news about this person’s activities in introducing the ostrich. And finally, as you may guess, it all worked out!! It only took 20 years.

The ostriches began to multiply and produced offspring in industrial quantities. And here the ostrich breeder was hit by the effect that Petersburgers will understood without explanation: while we respect craziness on this scale theoretically, in practice we are not prepared to eat ostriches. The number of exotic dishes in the most expensive restaurants is tiny. We’re conservative! You must agree, seeing the words “ostrich meat” on the menu can spoil the appetite of any Petersburger for quite a long time. If they were selling ostrich feathers, that might intrigue at least theatrical , where plays from aristocratic life are still being performed. But eating ostriches! That’s out of the question. You might just as well be selling tiger meat… Especially as the price is quite impressive – 300 rubles per kg.

And so, ostriches began to be sold in the guise of turkeys. Half-meter legs and enormous necks of this foreign beast which multiplied in is sold as a more or less ordinary food that buyers are used to. Surprise at the size of the “turkeys” is an everyday part of market life. You can’t say that a real ostrich, which is a turkey according to its documents, has been very popular – it is not bought with much enthusiasm, although people do buy it, especially when the Sinayvino chickens run out. But if the ostrich did not hide in this way, but was advertised under its real exotic name, then no one would buy it all!

This story worried me. I now look with concern at other items at the market: who knows what they’re trying to sell us. Are they selling kangaroo disguised as veal? Is that a persimmon, and not the fruits of a cactus tree? And is that milk or amaryllis juice? Are these eggs really from a chicken, and not from a crocodile?? After the ostrich disguised as a turkey, you can expect anything.

Trouble comes from where you least expect it. If the seller hadn’t come clean, I would never have thought that these wonders were on sale in the poultry section. And people think being a housewife is a peaceful occupation.

In fact, it is the most dangerous job around today. Worse than being a sailor. There are reefs, rips and breakers everywhere. You don’t know what you’re bringing home in the basket – food or poison. Although I now have tender feelings towards the ostrich. It used to be remote and strange. Now it’s not, now the ostrich has a Russian fate, one that we can understand. It freezes in the Oblast somewhere on a farm, pecks around, multiplies unwillingly – and goes to the market disguised as a turkey, an unrecognized, unnamed, inglorious Russian prisoner!

The ostrich is a Russian bird! I’d like to embrace you at night, have a drink with you and cry over our common fate…