The photos are grainy and poor. It is not easy to sneak up on a wild turkey! They can see the slight shifts in light from the house as I move from window to window, but today they do not move back into the wood. They have gotten used to me, I think.
Our front yard is planted in wheat, oats and rye. It refreshes with its greenness all winter long, and when it grows seed heads in the late spring, as it has begun to do, provides a jubilee for birds of all kinds. I saw a bluebird pair on a lamp post yesterday. He fed her a tender young seed.
The gobbler fanned his magnificent tail, preened, strutted and sailed about while two hidden hens ate their fill.
A sight like this sustains me for weeks, and I do not need to ponder The Meaning Of Life.