April Showers?

The weather gods are confused. So are the rest of us. Last Saturday it was 82 degrees, and last night it was 24 degrees. This morning it snowed. Here in the Pacific Northwest late April snows are pretty much unheard of.

Just notice the green of new leaves on the hardwoods. 

My turkey hen is decidedly not happy. The peafowl keep hunkering down on the porch, then flying off in panic when I open the door. I'm going to start knocking before I go outside, give them some warning.

Jesse is the only one who is thrilled with the weather. But then, he comes dressed for it. That's Ursa, hidden in the shelter staying dry.

Drying Out

Several of the chickens take advantage of a rainless spell to dry out.

The turkey hen dries out on the picnic table, while looking in the window to see what's keeping breakfast.

Turkey Wars

Shortly after I got my turkeys, I got off on the wrong foot with the tom. One morning I wandered out to admire and feed them, and was confronted by a puffed-up strutting male. I was surprised. Yesterday he was a gentle, compliant bird, and today he's in attack mode. Then I noticed the very blue head with the very red throat. Looked down at my red bathroom and fuzzy blue slippers.

From that day I've been the Rival, no matter what I wear. The fact that my farm clogs are green-blue doesn't help, I'm sure. Mr. Tom puffs up, gobbles and booms, strutting back and forth, attacking should a body part reach his side of the fence.

As I walk towards the fence, Mr. Tom leaves the shady shelter and heads my way. He doesn't even notice the cat sprawled in the dirt.

His interest is all in me. I'm big, I'm bad, and I'm blue.

Turkeys!

Yesterday I brought home a pair of Black Spanish turkeys. I released them into a pen so they could adjust to their new home. The peafowl immediately came to investigate. The young male is getting ready to display to the new girl in the neighborhood.

Charlie also wanted to meet the new residents. The tom isn't so sure about the big white dog. The pair settled in quickly, and spent the night in the tree just outside the pen, with one of the young peacocks.

This morning the pair are happily exploring their new home, the safe confines of the pen left behind. Tom is displaying and gobbling, unaware that some of his beautiful tail feathers were broken in transit.

The American Rare Breeds Conservancy http://www.albc-usa.org/ has Blacks on their "Watch" list. Heritage breeds are smaller, more flavorfull, and have less breast meat than commercial turkeys. They are also more independent and raise their own young.