Where Turkeys Roost

      Well, this morning Mrs. Tom Turkey was back strolling around my backyard. Her four little ones were in the backyard next door. One wiggled its way under the fence, but the other three were too big to manage that trick. They appeared quite agitated running back and forth along the fence trying to join their mother. Suddenly, one by one they took a running start, flapped their wings, and sailed over the fence. It happened too quickly for me to take a photo. Mrs. Tom didn't mind me snapping a few photos of her.

Once reunited the family headed to my other neighbor's yard where they spent some time scratching around under the bird feeder. That was the last I saw of them until this evening. There is a patch of woods behind my yard. I was sitting on my porch when out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mrs. Tom fly high up into one of the trees. The young ones followed, but they did so in stages, flying from one branch to another. Eventually, they all settled on one branch together. There wasn't much available light, but after a little computer magic, this is what I saw. The mother had her wings spread wide to shelter two little ones on each side. It was really quite remarkable. (You may always click on any photo to see a larger version; take a closer look at this one. It will make you smile.)

     I enjoy seeing the turkeys, but I am not nearly as enthusiastic as Benjamin Franklin was when he declared that the wild turkey should be named our national bird. The majestic bald eagle was chosen instead.