Turkey Trouble

There are some things in country life that you just can’t prepare for...

This is our turkey. Her name is Turkey. (We were convinced for the longest time that he was a she, but it turns out she is actually a he, but none of us can seem to remember that, so we call her, I mean him, a she. Confused? So are we.)

Moving on.

Turkey has a distinct personality and with that comes... issues. We haven’t decided where the problem lies- it’s either lack of self-confidence, or too much pride, or maybe a combination of both.

Lack of self-confidence- Not only is he the only turkey, but he gets picked on. Our little hens like to sneak up behind him and pluck the feathers from his bottom. We thought as they got older, they would grow out of it, but unfortunately they think it is too much fun. We have had to come to terms with the fact that they are never going to be friends.

Too much pride- Turkey LOVES attention. When we’re outside with her he follows us around like a little puppy and always has to be in the center of everything. He puffs out his feathers, spits and drums, and gobbles like none other. The more we tell him how beautiful he is, the more he does it…Maybe that’s where we went wrong…

Even at our Halloween party Turkey had to be the center of attention!

The worst part of Turkey’s need for attention is his infatuation with our dog, Tucker. For some reason Turkey believes that Tucker is a big black hen, and the more Tucker gets riled up, the more Turkey believes that the big black “hen” is truly in love with him.

This has resulted in Turkey no longer being able free-range, at least not unless she is under strict surveillance, because the moment she’s out, she preens, puffs up, and runs for Tucker.

(Not pictured- Turkey running at Tucker)

Tucker- Look at that big, fat, juicy turkey! I want to rip its head off!

Turkey- Look at the big black hen ready for some lovin!

The other night I went outside and spotted Turkey…drinking out of the dog’s water bowl. By some miracle Tucker hadn’t noticed her and was sitting and waiting patiently for me to greet him. I started walking very slowly. “Hey Tucker, hey boy. How are you doing?”

It was working until Turkey realized we weren’t paying attention to him and insisted on gobbling.

How dare I steal his hen’s attention!

Then, Armageddon ensued.

I dove for Tucker.

Tucker dove for Turkey.

And Turkey? Well, he fluffed his feathers and ran for Tucker.

I caught Tucker, but he was too strong for me to hold. My feet got tangled in his chain; I fell, and was dragged across the dirt as I did my best to pull him back. Tucker gnashed and pounced, while Turkey stepped to the side and would come forward again thinking that playing this hard to get was a lot of fun. Ah yes, love at its finest.

I finally got untangled and realized that pulling Tucker away was useless- Turkey wasn’t going to let him get away. I ran my lifetime PR of the 100 meter dash to the hose, and was able to use the water to momentarily separate them. More pulling, tripping, and rolling on the ground ensued, but the kids finally came to my rescue. They pushed Turkey back to the coop, leaving Tucker and I looking like we had just participated in one of those muddy greased pig contests. Other than being cold, wet, and muddy we left mostly unscathed, except for the few tail feathers in Tucker’s mouth and the stomach muscles I re-tore from an earlier accident.

Country life- oh the adventures!