An English In Kentucky


















May 2nd 2011    Tim Candler

    There is a Turkey in the big field.  She has her nest somewhere near three Cedar Trees, a Redbud and a mass of Staghorn Sumac.  It'll be a large nest on the ground and there will be more or less ten eggs in it.  At night she'll roost in Maples or maybe a Beech and while she does so  her eggs will remain unattended.  By August or September perhaps one of her eggs will fly.

     My own theory is that for Turkey some years are excellent.  A particular brood will swell Turkey ranks and everyone is happy.  Other years are childless.  And when it's again time to flock she'll become aunt-like in her observations.

     It's difficult to tell one girl Turkey from another.  They all look wonderful. Yet I like to think this Turkey has had her nest somewhere near the same place for a half dozen years or so.  She'll take one peaceful walk in the morning and another in the evening, which gives us a chance to guess where her nest might be.

    On the north side there is another girl Turkey.  She likes her nest closer to the house.  I know this because regularly we frighten each other when I open the front door.  And some years ago we saw her nest.  It was foolishly close to what we call "The Road" and far too easily spotted.

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