“Wake up!” the Husband said at 6:00am this morning.
“M’up,” I said, groggy from dreaming of horse shows and theatre.
“It’s Josie the turkey.”
Fearing the worst, I ran into the kitchen in little more than jogging pants and a tank top. “Where is she? What’s wrong?”
“She’s next door, screaming at the top of her lungs.”
Every morning, Josie the turkey lumbers up to the house and calls for me to come play. If I don’t respond immediately, she’ll go around to the front of the house. She’ll circle the house until I come pet her and feed her.
Her favorite food is pumpkin seeds. I keep a supply in a cupboard.
“Why would she go next door?” I asked, grabbing the seeds and running out the door.
The second that I jogged outside, I heard her. Screaming was no exaggeration. That turkey has some lungs. Screeching, calling, and generally making a rukus, she insisted on action.
I shook the seeds. She continued circling the neighbor’s house, searching for me.
She started running toward my voice, and eventually her eyes grew wider as she spotted her favorite treat in my hand. I shook the seed container all the way home, my little turkey scrambling behind me. I’m sure the neighbors had a great laugh.
Unless they were too busy cussing me out. It was, after all, 6am.