"The Dead Baby Turkey Comed Alived"

April 16, 2015

Does your family have stories, the good ones, the ones that are told over and over till they almost be come more of a family legend than a story.

Mine does.

Here is “The Dead Baby Turkey Comed Alived” story.

May 20, 2009, it was my 27 birthday. I was looking forward to sleeping in and drinking my coffee - slowly - in my bed.

Unfortunately I had a 3-year-old girl, 3 bucket calves, a half a dozen turkey babies, couple dogs and one very fat cat. (Luckily my Native Boy is a good sleeper and probably slept through this whole episode I am about to relate.)

The morning started out early. 6 a.m. or so. It was my Little Cowgirl’s usual wake up time. But I got myself a cup of coffee and determined to relax in bed. Quietly.

Until I heard the clatter of calf hooves on my kitchen floor. “Hey! Don’t let the cows in the house!” Yeah, I never thought I would be screaming those words from my bed either.

I evacuated the calves. Brought the dogs back in the house and tripped over the cat on my way back to my bed.

Little Cowgirl was not done with her morning fun though.

“Mama, can I let the baby turkeys out of their cage?”

Yes, but make sure the cat and dogs stay in the house and keep an eye on them.

I did want to teach the turkeys to free rang a little after all. My Little Cowgirl could be my turkey herder.

So I settled peacefully back in bed to enjoy some more coffee and quiet until --

I heard screeches from the back door, “NO Kelly NO!” Obviously things were going downhill fast!

I hit the back door headed out at the same time my old black dog was headed in with the lifeless body of a baby turkey in her mouth. I slapped her on the butt and she spit the casualty out.

The back yard looked like something of a war scene! Turkeys were scattering! I yelled at the other dog to get back in the house. My Little Cowgirl was sitting on the fat cat in nothing but a diaper! The cat had a baby turkey under each front paw and was determined to keep his prizes while his diapered rider pulled strongly on each ear trying to get him to relinquish said prizes.

I stormed out the back door cussing and gathering up turkeys. After rescuing the two held captive by the cat I stomped back into the house with my daughter right behind me. As we entered the house I scooped up the dead turkey the dog had spit out and dumped in in the kitchen trash. I preceded to stomp and growl and lecture my daughter about dogs, cats and turkeys.

Then I got into a shower.

After my shower I was getting dressed. I still was pretty grumpy about the turkey massacre. And I grumbled along. My Little Cowgirl came in to my room and said, “Mommy, the dead baby turkey comed alived.”

No, I told her. Dead turkeys don’t come back to life.

“But mommy, it moved.”

No, darling that was just the trash settling.

“But mommy, it went ‘Meep, meep, meep.'”

Ok. Now she had my attention, and sure enough in the kitchen I found a baby turkey sitting on top of the coffee grinds in the trash can saying, “Meep, meep, meep."