Tame, Domesticated or Wild
Neighborhood Turkeys Defy Explanation
Miss Mali, our Pembroke Welsh Corgi, and I were on an early morning walk when a family of turkeys crossed the road in front of us casting long shadows as the sun crested the hill.
“Why did the Turkey cross the road?” To see if Mike had any food.
I have seen Momma Turkey many times on our walks, but her babies only twice. The last time I saw her, she had five babies, and now there are four. They are no longer tiny poults with few feathers but have grown so much since then.
Like many families there was one child who was the straggler, lagging behind and easily distracted. Then there were two who seemed to compete with each other on who could be first, who could win every race.
I haven’t seen Tom since I wrote about him last Thanksgiving. I hope there is no connection between his disappearance and the holiday.
Tom’s are called Tom in the United States, but they are Stags in the United Kingdom and Ireland. I don’t know why, but hens are hens everywhere. Although Poults are sometimes Turkeylings, I don’t like the latter name as it seems like something that should be on a menu.
