The Son Of BOB, or When Good Turkeys Go Bad

It was about a year and a half or more ago, when we hatched some eggs from our beloved Turkeys, Bob and Hope.

 Being satisfied with one pair of Royal Palm Turkeys entertaining us while they wander the homestead, we decided to share our enjoyment with our neighbors and gave them some baby turkey poults.


Thankfully they are still talking to us, their male turkey grew up to be a extremely aggressive turkey with a horrible attitude. Kind of thing horror movies are made of.

The Sweeney family named their male turkey "Tom the Turkey" and maybe at first they were able to see some humor with the behavior of Tom The Turkey, but realized it was only a matter of time before friends, family, neighbors, horses, cattle, dogs, and cats would fall victim to this aggressive killer turkey.

So on a recent cool fall day, six foot four Steve Sweeney hid out in the barn with beer in hand peeking out while Leslie his petite wife and her girlfriend took matters into her own hands, and executed the blood thirsty Tom The Turkey.

The good news is, a heritage breed turkey is said to be a extremely tasty bird, and is nothing like the genetically produced birds you find in the super markets.
I also can't help thinking, What if instead of Turkeys I had a pair of Emus and gave them a baby Emu that grew up with a attitude?

So for this Thanksgiving I am thankful that the Sweeney family survived the wraith of Tom The Turkey.

My first encounter with the Royal Palm Turkey came when Jeanne and I went on a school field trip with Tommy to Bakerwoods in nearby Ashford Ct.

Along with many other farm animals they had a beautiful male Royal Palm Turkey that would walk up to visitors and strut his stuff and say, "I am the most handsome thing you ever saw?"

That day I told Jeanne I  have got to get one for our place. I found someone local who bred Royal Palms and brought 2 home. Bob our male, and Hope was our female.
We lost hope to a predator this past spring and Bob has been a loney boy ever since, I hope to find him a female and it does not need to be a Royal Palm. I was thinking maybe a Bourbon Red girlfriend for him would be interesting.

I may not understand the psychology of a lonely turkey, but I am thinking that maybe if I had a female that would sleep in the chicken house, maybe Bob would join her.

For now Bob has decided that sleeping up on our front porch, six feet from our bedroom window is a fine place to roost for the night.
The problem with this roosting spot is, when ever a car goes by, or almost any other nighttime disturbance including the 6 roosters we suddenly have, Bob lets out with a very loud "GOBBLE GOBBLE GOBBLE", and this is honestly only 6 feet from the pillow my head is on.

Bob is very lucky we love him!
I think there is a positive possibility, Jeanne may earn Sainthood living we me!