"Hey, you guys live up north of Honesdale, right?"
"Yes..."
"You live on such and such road, right?"
"Yes..."
"You have the yaks, yeah?"
"Yes, those are our yaks."
"And the turkeys..."
"Oh. Yes. Sorry about that."
See, the turkeys aren't really domesticated, not in any sense you might imagine. Nutsy is used to people and will hang around, the babies are not. So there's not really any way to pen them in that would keep them contained (and since all chicken containment efforts have failed, I shudder to imagine our attempts at enclosing turkeys).
The biggest problem with that is that for some reason, baby turkeys like to lay down on the road. I can't even begin to understand this; it seems utterly contrary to any sort of evolutionary sense you could possibly imagine. Laying in the middle of the road (while warm and comfy) would defy every practical application of "survival of the fittest." And yet, that's their favorite place to be, so a couple times a day we usually hear a horn honking outside as someone tries to encourage them to be smarter, or at least have a little self preservation.
The other new favorite activity of the turkeys is scaring Thora to death.
The couch in the window is Thora's couch, where she sleeps and hangs out. The turkeys have taken to sitting on the porch railing just outside her window first thing in the morning, completely surrounding her, so that the first thing she sees when she wakes up is an ambush of turkeys.
This has led to some unpleasantly loud mornings in our house.
I have to say, I love animals. I love all the animals on our farm, each and every one of them.
But I am seriously looking forward to Thanksgiving this year.
