Like a few humans in my life lately, the turkeys have finally proven to be more of an irritation and burden in my life than any minor source of happiness. They are idiots .... period. And I now deeply resent the shin scar from trying to unload that 130 pounds of cracked corn for them. Here's why:
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I was really excited when I found a total of eleven eggs in the nesting tub. Three of the eggs disappeared over time without a trace. No big deal, there were still eight in there, all supported by great hopes on my part.Last week, I went into the coop to add more water and cracked corn to their dishes and Rita (the darker one) raised up and spread out her wings out to hide something. It was then that I heard the faintest of chirping noises. Yes! There were hatchlings in her tub! Yes! My dream of bringing them out to the ranch was still alive!
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Rita and Hannah finally left the nest and I found two unhatched eggs and six very alive hatchlings. What joy, what affirmation of new possibilities!. .
Here is one of the new turkey babes. Utterly adorable! And, yes, that is my infamously work-hardened hand holding him or her. Yep, those hands would send manicurists shrieking for cover. One day when I walked into my paramedic/rummage lady friend's shop, she said "Quick, lemme see your hands!" I obliged and she sighed in relief and said "Thanks, I needed that!"...???... ..She explained that she was feeling pretty weary about working so hard and never taking any time for her own needs and she didn't want to feel like the Lone Ranger just then. I took that as a great compliment since she was the hardest working woman I had ever met. She always paid the deepest of attention to hands, whether from when she was working for the coroner's office or to the many small town funerals she had attended. She maintained that you could learn a lot about people just from their hands. "I always look at the hands," she said, "their story is written there so plainly for me."But I digress, as I do so often this year, so let me continue now. Those tiny turkeys were very symbolic to me; something positive to bring out to a ranch, to a dream abandoned in haste before the isolating rains came nearly a year ago.
When I went out to feed again, I found six tiny chicks out in the flight run, all deadly still upon the ground, trampled to death by idiot adult turkeys. I cannot tell you how close I came to leaving the door open and letting them all run free and out of my life for good. Or better, letting Brou have his delight into sending them high up into the trees. Instead, I decided to let the remaining hundred pounds of corn in the steel can act as an hour glass of fate; their remaining time for proving their worth sifts down by the daily cupful. If they produce more chicks before the corn runs out, they stay.
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.It is the year to cast away things that have brought me sorrow and disappointment at the lowest time in my life. Losing Terry has brought that reality into painfully razor-sharp focus, brought a stinging reality to the many red flags that the ever-analytical Terry had pointed out in the past. There were those who rallied to keep my spirits up and those who rallied to knee me in the emotional groin at my most vulnerable time in life, either by their laziness to not so much as hit 'reply' with a word of sympathy or by those who did much worse and should have remained silent. I thank God for those who knew us both so well through adversity as Virgil did and remained a beloved friend to both of us and a source of life-sustaining encouragement to me. Virgil understood the deep but sometimes tumultuous bond we shared as few apparently did. On his recent stay-over here, he said "I was there through your tough times out at the Rat, there was nothing in your journal of adventures that was BS." He continued "I saw that you both had your unpleasant sides but you guys were like this ..." as he twisted two fingers together tightly. That meant a lot to me, more than you can possibly imagine. The nice thing about blogging is that you can purge disappointing people out of your blog life completely. And it makes reality that much easier to follow and putty in the wounds.
Yep, the kick-butt lady in the profile photo is back and she will be doing what has to be done without taking prisoners or granting further quarter. I am going to step away from the blog now in order to address many necessary life changes and plans in the works. I will be back on July 9th, the anniversary of the date which started me on a journey to see the best and worst of human nature.
In the interim, I will be working on this new pumpkin shell residence plus the horribly languishing legal matters and making plans for a big life change for the better. God bless all of you who have contributed your positive input throughout this, my longest year through hell to date. Remember, I will be back on July 9th, even if only for a quick bounce off the trampoline of life events ... God willing and the Creek don't rise. In the meantime, I hope you will also be out there kicking fresh butt in these widely spread trying times. If I can do it, so can you - don't forget that, don't ever give up hope.
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