We were discussing wild birds the other day with cousin Charlie. Charlie used to be a big pheasant hunter, but those beautiful birds have become scarce in Iowa. However, the mild winter is a godsend for pheasants and Charlie has seen more of them around his farm lately.
Turkeys, now that is another deal. On our way to Charlie’s farm we saw flocks of the fat birds at the edges of the fields, near the tree lines. They love that spilled corn. I see turkeys on my commute home from work almost every day.
I wasn’t surprised when I read this story about a woman who has become a prisoner on her property, stalked and harassed by a 25-pound turkey.
I had a rooster like that once — Fred. He had beady, red eyes and talons that he tried to rake down my bare legs if he caught me in the garden. He caught Grandpa by the tractor once and drew blood. The only reason Grandpa didn’t kill him was because he was Caroline’s pet. Fred would stalk me as I sat in the backyard reading, making it hard to relax. He lived about three years, and one morning we found him upside down in the compost pile. Something got him.
I’m keeping my eye on those turkeys.