do they make turkey nuggets?
So the hub...err...IDP had this brilliant idea. Get a bunch of heritage breed turkeys, raise them, grow them up, make more heritage breed turkeys, and make lots of money come November. This sounded brilliant on paper. And let's face it, this is where I live...on paper. I'm a writer, not a farmer.
Oh sure, I play at the farming stuff every day. I love cuddling the baby chicks. I love watching the cute piggies from a safe distance behind glass. I loved listening to my dearly departed ducks as they quacked up every night while they cased my house, trying to figure out how to get inside. But even the ducks had me pulling my hair out when they were babies. They were messy, and loud, and generally a pain in the ass. But they had nothing on these freaking turkeys.
I feel like I've been transported to the deepest darkest jungles of somewhere I've never been before. Where tropical birds chirp and peep constantly. And you'd gladly trade your last candy bar for a pair of ear plugs. That's right...I'd give up chocolate for just a little bit of silence. Baby turkeys cry all the time. All. Night. Long. And I feel like I'm living in an indoor zoo where the sounds echo and bounce off the walls. I'm about to go stir crazy in my own home.
Add to that an injured chicken that now thinks I'm her mother. She's decided she should be allowed in the house because the dogs are. And Indy follows behind her in the most dramatic slow speed chase since the white Bronco took on the 405 freeway. He's careful not to run because he knows she's hurt, but he just can't resist tailing her around the house. Where are those camera crews when you need them anyway?
Oh well...I guess this is just my life. And I suppose I wouldn't want it any other way. Well, maybe just a little quieter.
Until the next time...I'll be stuffing cotton in my ears.