Surprised? Well, so was I, when one summer day thirty years ago a bedraggled, male turkey showed up at our front door. We often had a flock of wild turkeys come through our yard. We live in a rural area, in the sticks one might say. When I saw him, I thought he must have had some sort of ‘fowl’ mishap. He was missing a few feathers and some of them were standing out straight not nice and together. In fact he looked pitiful. He didn’t run away when I opened the door; right then I should have known, he meant to stay. “Christine, come here a minute,” I called to my then teenage daughter.She appeared next to me and peered out the door. “A turkey? Why is he just standing there looking at us?” she questioned.
For some reason this turkey seemed of a different breed. Not afraid of us at all. I shut the door. My daughter went back to her room and resumed her cleaning. She was the last one in our nest. Her brother was in college studying Mechanical Engineering. As I resumed making dinner, there was a racket outside the front door. It sounded like gobbling and fluttering feathers. I heard our neighbor’s voice calling, “Hey, you have a guard turkey out here. I brought the paper but that odd turkey won’t let me come by the front door.”Bounding down the steps and opening the door, I yelled, “Git, go on, shoo!” With that our feathered friend slinked around the corner of the house. Bob chuckled handing me the paper.
Now in his seventies, Bob remained obsessive about almost everything including the exact time he brought us the newspaper, what meals he ate and when, what part of a trail he walked each day, etc. You could say we were the only disruptions in his schedule. It seemed to me he welcomed the occasional meal he had with us at no set time and often by last minute invitation. I’ll have to bring Wolf over next time. Look’s like your friend is protecting you. He’s liable to attack me,” he said as he as he strode across our yard clad in his well worn blue sweater and brown cap.
When my husband got home that night we told him about the turkey. “Sounds like the flock abandoned him. Survival of the fittest you know,” was his only comment, But at five am the next morning we realized our new friend was still around. He had evidently nested for the night next to the pickup cap which sat on the ground below the sliding glass door of our bedroom. He awoke with the sunrise and began gobbling loudly to greet the day. My husband, who is definitely not a morning person, woke up and sat up. Still sleepy, he asked, “What’s the racket?” “Sounds like that turkey. I guess he spent the night here,” I said not knowing this was the first of many for our uninvited guest.
(The end is near!)