A lot of people have things that "stick in their craw" these days, varying from the antics of their neighbors to the antics of their government.

This thought crossed my mind this morning as I watched nine wild turkeys feeding sedately on my front lawn. We live near a creek, so our wildlife visitors vary from wildcats to red-headed woodpeckers.

Anyhow, my curiosity was aroused as I reflected that I'd rather watch wild turkeys than listen to the constant chatter of those self-appointed "experts" who dissect current events every day on the all-news channels.

What, I wondered, do those wild turkeys find to eat in my recently mowed yard? They're obviously eating something because they constantly peck at the grass (and weeds) that I call a lawn.

A little research disclosed that wild turkeys are omnivorous, meaning that they eat both animals and vegetables. And, yes, they do have craws, although these pouch-like enlargements on the birds' gullets are more accurately called "crops." That's where their food is partially digested or stored.

Those of us who eat chickens are familiar with their gizzards, and so this must be another name for these muscular pouches where birds grind their food. That's why I see these same wild turkeys pecking bits of rock from the nearby road. They need grinding material.

But, when a governmental announcement "sticks in your craw," that means that this particular bit of information is hard to swallow. I don't know whether birds have this problem, but we Homo sapiens certainly are afflicted with this irritation, if only in a figurative sense.

The trouble is that human reactions vary. While the fact that 40 million Americans can't afford health insurance "sticks in my craw," you might say that we can't afford to do anything about it -- and so that particular bit of information slides down your gullet quite smoothly.

Then the situation becomes more complicated because you call me a wild-spending liberal (which sticks in my craw because I'm not) and I might retort with a few well-chosen epithets that certainly would stick in your craw.

And, before you know it, we two friends would be arguing, and choosing up sides, and then the political wrangling would begin. At that point, any reasonable attempt to solve the problem would be gone, and we would be political enemies.

We might write a letter to the editor, which would be applauded by those who agree with us and might be attacked by those who disagree. Then someone else would write a letter, and so on. And each of these persons would be guided by a set of facts that came from a biased think-tank "study" which had been conducted for a group of lobbyists who did, or didn't, want to do what we wanted to do.

Then, in the end, everyone would forget all of our arguments and the sun would come up in the east the next morning and the world would proceed much as it has for thousands of years -- except that the lobbyists would have won the right to earn millions of extra dollars in profits.

It's easy to understand why politicians avoid committing themselves whenever they can, and don't vote on an issue until they're forced to do so. Can you blame them?

So, rather than endure the hard feelings of a useless argument, let's think about the wild turkeys that think they own my rural homestead. Are they finding bugs, or are they eating bits of grass, or do they find an occasional weed seed that whets their appetite?

But that won't work either, because we must solve the problems that plague our society. We must end our wars, and protect ourselves from terrorists, and take care of the sick and needy, and control the corporations that have nearly wrecked our economy, and deal with the insurance companies that are under attack right now.

As for insurance companies, I have my own story to tell. Quite a few years ago, a hail and lightning storm visited my peaceful countryside. I don't recall all of the details, but the upshot was this. My house needed new shingles, and lightning had destroyed my TV set and an expensive stereo.

Did the insurance company pay off? Yes. But then they sent me a notice that they were canceling my insurance policy. So, even though I had paid my premiums faithfully and on time, I had to search for a new insurer, which wasn't easy.

Well, if the health insurers are doing something like that to sick people, I say it's time to act. Because, you see, that "sticks in my craw" -- whether you like it or not.

Darrel Miller lives near Downs in rural Osborne County and is a retired weekly newspaper editor.