Where’s the turkeys?

ladiesNow that it’s been a few days, the ladies, as I’ve taken to collectively calling the new turkeys, have started to settle into their routine. Every night at dusk I herd them into the chalet, which is a much easier process now that they’ve realized delicious kibble will be waiting for them inside. At dawn I let them out, and they follow Dimsworth and Hawthorne around the pasture, separated by the fence. I would love to be able to let the boys come back in, but the first time I staged a meet and greet, they ignored the ladies and went straight to attacking Woolimina. Of all the critters to harass, I don’t know why on earth they picked the one with the horn that sticks straight out. Woolimina’s not afraid to use it, either. So far it’s Woolimina 10, turkeys 0.

The ladies have managed to scare the heck out of me twice so far. The first time was roostingwhen I went to check on them one night when they were still sleeping in the cabana, only to find no one home, not even the pasture chickens. The warm, comfy, brightly lit cabana, normally crammed with sleeping goats, turkeys, and chickens, was totally empty. It took a while, but I finally found the chickens sleeping in the goats bedroom, one curled up on top of Ariel. The turkeys took a bit longer to round up, but lots of hissing and several scratches later, everyone was safely put to the bed in the chalet. The next night, I panicked again – I had tucked them all safely into their new nighttime quarters, but it was completely empty. Nary a turkey in sight, until I looked up. They had all flown up to one of the support beams, eight feet in the air, and settled in for the night. They’ve done it every night since, and seem quite content with their new home. I think they’re going to be beautiful when they’re full grown, except for perhaps the darkest one, Constance. For some reason, her neck is bare, so she looks exactly like a turkey vulture.

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