Tukeys - I'm a big fan. And it's a good thing because they are the last thing I hear before falling asleep at night and they wake me every morning. Their call is ridiculous and I laugh every time I hear it. It's almost as funny as watching them fly. Almost.
This morning was no exception, the only thing unusual was that it sounded like they were in the kitchen. They were having a very serious convo just outside the window. Two tom turkeys were totally checking themselves out in the bumper of the truck and trying to peck the "intruder's" face off.
Alright, turkeys…I'm up, I might as well go for a walk. It was chilly and windy and the bison were in the field I was planning on tromping through, so the walk was shorter than anticipated. I leaned on the fence and hung out with the buffalo for awhile.
Then I headed to the chicken coop to hang with the poultry.
Next it was back to the cabin for some lunch. I'm cruising up to the door and what do I see? A baby bird.
me: "Oh cool, you're learning to fly - good luck to ya."
me: "Uhh…why are you walking funny?"
baby bird: "My legs are broken."
me: "Awesome - my heart just broke then imploded."
baby bird: "How do you think I feel?"
Not but a few yards down the path, I find another baby bird. But don't worry, this one wasn't hurt. It was only totally dead. Dead. What the fuck!? I was gone for a couple of hours and I come back to complete baby bird carnage?
R.I.P. Baby Bird
Dammit, I just went through this with a caterpillar. Can't this shit be spread out a little?
I spent the rest of the afternoon painting a portrait of the little guy but not before balling my eyes out over the injured baby (who is now in a bassinet next to the bed). Ranch life is tough.