We figured something wildlife-ish had happened to Bill. The Girls were around – all 21 of them! – and Bill, alas…no Bill for about a week.
Today, as Boo (our rescue Bassador) and I returned from our walk, I saw a herd (I know, the proper term is flock and these were moving like a herd. I’m an author. Live with it) of Turkeys heading into our backyard.
This didn’t surprise me. Our Turkeys have become the guardians of my writing. For reasons beyond my comprehension (but I’m sure I’ll discover because I’m starting a new story, A Raccoon’s Tale, that involves Three Turkeys playing Macbeth’s witches. Again, I’m an author. I’ve learned to live with it), they show up when I’m writing and leave when I’m finished. As I write off and on all day, it gets quite busy.
I gave Boo his “we went for a walk” treat and gave Ghost (our rescue Kitty) his “you and Boo went for a walk” treat and went to pour myself a cup of coffee when what did I see?
Two Toms a’ Struttin’.
Proudly, slowly, they moved.
Reconnoiting (yes, I know it’s reconnoitering. Did you read those parts about me being an author?) the ladies. “She’s nice.” “Mmmm.” “Look at the way she’s fluffing herself up.” “Think I’ll go on over and scratch up some seeds for her. See if she’s interested.”
This explains a lot.
And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some writing to do…
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