The males prance and strut around with their feathers poofed way out all day long. They circle and circle the females and each other, apparently trying to be the largest, poofiest, manliest turkey on the block. You would think that at some point they would stop circling and displaying their awesomeness and just get busy hopping on a female. But we've yet to see any of the males attempt to mate with a female. This is what we have see them enthusiastically mating with:
The body of a guinea fowl that we had found dead a few days before.
The decapitated head of the turkey we butchered for Thanksgiving.
No kidding. The lady turkeys around here seem perfectly easy on the eyes to me. Why oh why do our males prefer dirty rubber boots and decomposing heads? I have, of course, had to tease my husband about purchasing mentally challenged turkeys from the hatchery. I DO hope they finally hop on top of the correct creature so that those lovely turkey eggs become fertile. Perhaps if we carefully hide all the dead things, and pieces of dead things, and I bring my old boots inside, they will settle for a turkey lady.
Ahh, we sure get a lot of hearty laughs around this goofy place.
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