Share
For those who have asked, Tom Turkey made it through another Thanksgiving. We only took a drumstick off him this year.
Just kidding.
This was Tom’s eighth or ninth Thanksgiving he was not invited to attend. He was part of a flock of 40 heritage breed Narragansett and Bourbon Red turkeys. We had a makeshift place to shut up at night, but they roamed the farm during the day.
Ellie was in the first grade (she is now in ninth) and had a purple backpack book bag. The turkeys were fascinated by the purple bookbag and would often follow her down the driveway to the house after she got off the school bus. They would hang out in the yard and come onto the back porch.
Thirty to 40 half-grown turkeys on the back porch is an interesting sight. Fifteen minutes later, they might be 200 yards away walking along the tree line.
Every evening with that flock of turkeys, Jenifer, Ellie, Levi and I would have to go find them and herd them back to the roosts.
A cool chore – to start with – that quickly lost its luster.
