So it’s official…I’m a fan of turkeys. Not to eat. Well I do like to eat turkey, but don’t tell them that.
The little turkeys of spring are all grown up. I can’t tell Betty from Joe, LaDonna from Jim, Zizzle from Hans. It doesn’t matter about their names, I love them all…they’re like the turkey children I never had.
I can tell you all kinds of things about turkeys now…I’ve spent a lot of time the past couple of weeks watching them traipse back and forth through the woods and they’re fascinating. One attractive trait…they’re very kind to each other. I’ll share some more turkey traits with you later. But for now, enjoy the lovely wingspan that gets displayed after a nap. (They take a LOT of naps.)
Two days before Thanksgiving, and nineteen turkeys walked through the front yard and crossed the road. Happy thanksgiving everyone!
I looked out the window today and the turkey parents were shepherding their young across the northwest corner of the backyard!
I haven’t seen them in quite a while and I was really happy to see that everyone was present and accounted for.
I’m wondering if turkeys name their young…if so, what would they name them? I’m having a hard time imagining a turkey named Cindy, or Tony. That brings up the subject of last names. I can’t wrap my head around that…I really can’t.
I was a little surprised when I looked out the window, two days in a row, and saw a turkey strolling across the backyard. Apparently we are now on the official turkey trot trail! I even heard it singing a turkey song.
“These boots are made for walking,
and that’s just what they’ll do…
One of these days these boots,
are gonna walk all over you.”
Oops, sorry…I think that’s a Nancy Sinatra song. And turkeys don’t wear boots.