In this previous post, I promised I’d try to get a picture of the wild turkeys. I was planning on getting them burying themselves in the steaming manure pile in winter (The Turkey Sauna), but they were quite resistant to all my devious efforts to photograph them. Who knew turkeys are camera-shy? (Except in spring, when their hormones kick in.)
When they snap the fan of their tail feathers open, it sounds like rustling taffeta. They tilt the tail fan , very slowly, this way and that, as they move. It’s mesmerizing.
This was, of course, all interrupted by Rupert, who needed to crow importantly that the sun had risen. Checked my watch. 11:45 am. Yup. Sun’s up. Never would have guessed. Thanks Rupert.