One morning last year when I left the house for work I encountered a turkey on the steps to our front porch. A real, live, wild turkey.
This wasn’t my first encounter. Dan and I had seen a mother and chick in our neighbourhood several times in the preceding weeks (initially there were two chicks but one disappeared presumably as a casualty of nature).
Each time we encountered the two turkeys we were fascinated by them and pleased to see that the chick was thriving.
Their presence generated a lot of turkey chatter in our town, as well as the occasional traffic jam. By winter the chick had matured to full size, and was easier to spot with it’s mother — if you kept an eye out for them.
And then they seemed to disappear. We assumed they had fled town.
Imagine my delight a few weeks ago when friends across town told us they had seen turkeys in their back garden. And my further delight when Jack and I encountered them on an early morning walk this week. At first we saw three …
but soon encountered five more.
live. enjoy. repeat.