No, I’m not referring to my kids, although at times they are wild, and are goofy like turkeys. I’m referring to the 19 turkeys that frequent our yard. The kids get a science lesson almost every day in our back yard – turkeys, deer, salamanders, snakes, and frogs. They love it.
This group of turkeys has frequented our back yard for over a year. We’ve seen the little ones grow into big, fat turkeys. And yes, all 19 visit us at once, pecking at bugs in our clover. Or I guess that’s what they are doing.
I love being outdoor and enjoy hikes, kayaking, camping with my husband. As the kids get older, they will be doing these things with us. But I am not a natural ‘nature’ girl. I grew up swimming in a pool, not a river. I can count on two hands how many times I went fishing as a kid. And although we went camping, I’m pretty sure it was for us kids, because my mom will fully admit “it’s not her thing”. Oh the sacrifices we make as parents.
My husband is a natural outdoorsman – hunting, fishing, hiking, camping, snowshoeing, skiing, canoeing, kayaking – you name it, he does it. He does a great job teaching our kids about the outdoors and makes sure they get plenty of fishing time as well.
So this morning I’m talking to my son about Thanksgiving. If you’ve been reading my posts, you know I’m one of those moms who does a lot of “talking” with my kids – explaining holidays, talking about values – pretty much explaining things to them every chance I get. We were talking about the turkey I would cook and how great it would be to have everyone over for dinner.
My son pauses with that thoughtful look on his face, an indicator that his wheels are turning. He looks up at me and says “Mama, can we use the deer thing and go out back and get a turkey to cook?” Oh gosh. I don’t know what deer thing he is referring to, I’m guessing it’s a deer call or a set of binoculars. Whatever he and my husband were last using when talking about deer.
I remember my grandmother telling me that the boys on the farm (yes, she grew up on a farm) once caught a wild turkey for her to cook. And it was awful. So now I have a bright young boy with a bright idea that I’m trying not to squash.
“Oh, honey, I am going to the store to get one. They have them all ready to cook and it will be delicious.” This is called the art of evasion. Answer the question, but don’t quite answer the question.
His response: “OK, mama. Then we’ll go outside and get another turkey to cook. When yours is all gone”.
Somehow, I think this is a losing battle. That being said, I have a 25 pound fresh, no-antibiotic turkey from the store sitting downstairs in the fridge. You won’t find me plucking feathers this Thanksgiving!