Tag: Turkeys

I haven’t shared notes about our resident turkeys since The Chuckster and then to mention we hadn’t seen them in a bit. Prior to that, I wrote about Two Toms a’ Struttin’ and noted that, with that much testosterone hanging, turklets (we’ve been instructed they’re not “hatchlings” or some such. The proper translation from Toiga, the primary Turkey language, is “turklet”) were sure to be around.

We’d been hearing turkeys calling each other for a while. Hadn’t seen anyone, though. No turkey signs, either. You know, those signs they carry. Ban Thanksgiving!, Humans are Turkeys, Too!, Support the Turkey Lobby!, and Try Ham with a Side of Cranberry! So Good and So Good for You!.

Anyway, one day as I was working on Gable Smiled and had a sense I was being Turkied. Sure enough, lifting my eyes from my monitor, what do I behold?

There were more than seven, of course. I counted fourteen at one point (they came three times. Wanted to be sure I understood this was to be a turkey-less Thanksgiving this season).

And there were turklets. More like turkteens but still turklets.

Welcome.

I wrote about Agnes, our resident wild turkey, a few posts back and that Agnes brought along her friend, Francesca.

Well, things were obviously pretty good at Chez Carrabis because the other day we woke up to see Bill out there with the girls.

It’s Bill, not William. Just Bill

I didn’t know we had any mature Toms although I shouldn’t have been surprised; any Tom would be drawn to the vicinity of two such attractive ladies.

I went out to greet him. When I asked his name, I thought he said “Roger” (probably some errant chipmunk not getting enough seed).

“I bet your pardon?” I said.

“My name’s Bill.”

Being polite, I said, “Hello, William.”

He quickly corrected me, “It’s Bill, just Bill,” and he held out a wing. He had a good, firm wingshake. Obviously a bird of business, a serious bird, one to be dealt with squarely, probably good with a bread&bourbon stuffing.

Bill harrumphed at that and joined the ladies.