I went walking early on Martin Luther King Jr. day. I was awakened by a flock of some 50 turkeys that my West Tisbury neighbor Ann Burt tells me have made her roof their overnight home. They had come down to forage in my yard and pester my yellow cat, Vercingetorix. He was just setting out to explore the snow when the turkey flock intercepted him. He seemed more annoyed than worried by the huge, noisy flock. He has become more or less accustomed to them, I guess, for — in smaller numbers — they occasionally use my roof or my apple tree as an overnight perch.

Like Vercingetorix, I bypassed the turkey flock. As I set out I was assisted by a truck going down Tiasquam Road, honking loudly at the big black birds. When I reached the woods behind my house, I found them all decked out in what I choose to think were Martin Luther King Jr. Day celebratory blooms. Trees and shrubs edging Glimmerglass Pond gleamed with white snow flowers. I had to bow low beneath arches of them.

The sky above was platinum, and here and there when the clouds parted, it seemed to be of silver. Pond waters were a glimmering bronze. A flock of Canada geese passed overhead, announcing their passage with their loud call. I chose to think they too were heralding the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. When I got home, I was sure of it, for Democracy Now was broadcasting a recently-discovered speech the Reverend King had given in London en route to Oslo to receive the Nobel Peace Prize in 1964. He was speaking of an America he hoped would one day be a safe haven for people of all colors, races and religions — Muslims included.

I have been warned that it is unwise to go alone on woodland walks in winter, now that I am an octogenarian. Felled trees and rocks may be leaf-covered, or as they were on Monday, snow or ice-covered. I should at least carry a cell phone, I am told. A cell phone somehow seems out of synch with walking in the woods. For safety’s sake, I was wearing my Yaktrax and poking my way under the tree arches with a sharp-pointed cane that Shirley Mayhew, knowing my addiction to snow-walking, presented to me after last winter’s blizzard to steady my way on slippery days.

On Monday morning when I emerged from the snow-blossomed bower that edges the pond and reached the Duys field, which I have to cross to reach Music street, rabbit tracks marked the route for me to follow. (There were also deer tracks, but they led back into the woods.) Snow glistened on the stone wall edging the field. I found Music street plowed and somewhat sanded. I was not at all sure, however, that it offered a safer place to walk than the woods had, with cars speeding by.

My walk was shorter than on snowless days, but could not have been lovelier. And I do choose to think that all those white snow flowers in their bowers, the silver and platinum sky, the bronze pond waters and the honking geese were all honoring the Reverend King.

In these times of increasing racial and religious prejudice across the country he especially needs to be remembered. He died, after all, trying to make America, as it was meant to be — “One nation, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.”