318 animal, vegetable, miraclewhen I came back to check on her she was still perky and now calling
desperately for her friends. (Turkey hens hate being alone.) I decided I
must have worried the whole thing out of thin air.
I led her back up to the turkey pen. She walked into the midst of her
brethren, heaved a great turkey sigh, and drooped back down again: head
hunched, wings dragging the ground. Okay, I wasn’t imagining it, she re-
ally had something. I shepherded her back out and down to the barn
again. And once again, watched in astonishment as she lifted her head
brightly and began to walk around, looking for something to eat.
I stared at her. “Are you goldbricking?” I demanded.
It was a sunny Saturday, our first little sneak preview of spring. Steven
was down in the new orchard working on the fence. I decided my poultry
patient could use a mental health day. I let her out of the barn and we
walked together down the road toward the orchard. She could get some
sunshine and fresh greens, and I’d see if Steven needed help with the
fence. He saw us coming down the lane together, and laughed. Turkey
herders are not a respected class of people.
“She needs some fresh pasture,” I said defensively. “She has some kind
of droopy sickness.”
“She looks fine,” he said (which was maddeningly true), and went back
to the fence that’s meant to discourage deer from eating our young pear
orchard. For a few minutes I watched Ms. Turkey happily foraging among
the trees, pecking at seed heads, alerting to any small movement of in-
sects among the clumps of grass. She seemed as healthy as the day she
was born. Some of our trees, on the other hand, showed signs of deer
damage. I inspected them closely and considered going back up to the
shed to get the lop shears. This winter day would be a good time for prun-
ing the fruit trees.
Steven yelled, “Hey, knock it off!”
I looked up to see he wasn’t talking to me. My charge had wandered
over to him, approaching from behind and reaching up with her beak to
give his jacket a good tug, issuing a turkey mandative I would translate as:
Hey, look at me!
He nudged her away, but she persisted. After several more tugs, he
turned to face her directly, planted his feet, and made a very manly sort of