Anyhoo here we are, I've managed to find a bit of time and actually have something to write about. Lesley's mom is here preparing 'Butch' the turkey . (You may need to know who Stuart Mclean is to get that reference. Honestly, this turkey has less skin than a pot bellied stove and is actually missing an arm. Wing - whatever.) While she was stitching it up and warming the stove, Belle was by the back door barking. Now that the leaves are gone from the trees you can see into the fields behind our house, and she often barks at the horses there, and she had just come in minutes before from chasing squirrels away from the feeder. However, as Rose looked up she saw this:
A group of wild turkeys wobbling along the opposite bank of the river. The dog was going nuts, the kids started shouting for slingshots and bb guns, (blood thirsty little imps) but I smartly grabbed the camera instead. Watching these blokes wandering so close to our house was kind of funny for me, as I have been reading a very old copy of Robin Hood stories, and just finished the section where Little John and the rest of the gang rescue Will Stutely from hanging. Now I'm sure that the Sheriff had no plans of eating poor Will, and I doubt the feral turkeys would have even recognized the pale, goose-bumpy, one armed, headless, naked, stuffed with breadcrumbs and held together with skewers cousin of theirs in my kitchen sink, but still, it struck me as odd, and while everyone looked intensely out the windows, I quietly latched the door. No one was going stop Butch from reaching my plate. Not my own stuffed to the gills stomach, not it's 'Utility Grade' classification, not a knife fight, and certainly not a roving pack of wild turkeys.Have a great holiday!
