Mama Muscovy and her three Narragansett turkey chicks - what??? Haiku and More

Mama Muscovy and her three Narragansett turkey chicks

Muscovies aren't smart
and neither are turkey poults
but man!!! They're SO cute!!!

Well, I'm currently on injured reserve, and I don't even play football.

I returned from an all-too-short, quick and wonderful trip to Florida with Marek, where I not only got to see my friends for the first time in over seven years, but also got to see three knock out concerts back to back, on Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights.

More on the concerts later.

Monday, Marek had the day off, so we spent some time at our old favorite Lake Seminole Park, followed by some time in the surf and sand of Indian Rocks Beach, both of which are about ten minutes from my old home in Largo.

We did go by the old house, briefly, which was a somewhat depressing excursion, as nearly all of the rare, unusual and edible plants I'd cultivated for over a decade have been either uprooted or cut to the ground.

The new owners doubtless never realized that they could have nearly halved their grocery bills (or more) by simply allowing what was already there to grow.

Not to mention that they had some amazing varieties that any decent greenhouse would have paid them well to obtain. Damn.

Oh well. At least the timber bamboo is still in the back yard, and the grandfather oak and a now-large rubber tree in the front yard, and they left the Egyptian papyrus and the Turk's cap hibiscus alone. Small miracles.

And of course, the massive Ficus benjamina tree, which got zapped and nearly killed in the Christmas freezes of 2009/2010, is still hanging in there, sort of, with tufts of leaves at the ends of each sort-of living branch. It looks strange, compared to the wall of green it presented before, but I must admit, I was surprised it was still alive, particularly after the two hurricanes since we moved.

At least one of the two pink grapefruit trees in the back yard is gone, which is a crying shame, as our pink grapefruit were so sweet and delicious that even my friends with their own pink grapefruit trees awaited the fruit each year. They were amazing. And they made the best grapefruit juice I've ever had.

In truth, our old home no longer even resembles its former self. Marek literally didn't recognize it when we first saw it, and whatever else may be true, in no way does it still feel like home.

We agreed that we would eventually like to have another place in Florida, but further north, perhaps along the Emerald Coast, or between the two, maybe around Cedar Key. Definitely on the West Coat, though, as the East Coast of Florida has never called to me in the same way.

And I think my shoulder issues were at least in part a sign of the resistance I was feeling, that dichotomy between wanting to get home to our animals, and not wanting to leave Florida and my friends.

After three days at home my shoulder is better; not completely healed, and still a bit painful at times, but I'm back to having more-or-less full use of my arm and shoulder. And that reminds me yet again to be grateful that my health is, in most ways and most of the time, quite good. I am fortunate indeed.

I had finished mowing when I left, so the yard looked good when Marek arrived a couple of days before I joined him, but then it rained in the four days we were gone, so now it looks as though I haven't mowed in months, with our vibrantly healthy grass and weeds reaching a foot tall or more in places.

Not good during tick season.

I went out yesterday to mow, only to discover that our riding mower wouldn't start, and the battery was clicking as though it hadn't been run in months, despite my running it last week, and the battery having been replaced less than two months ago.

Perhaps I returned to an alternate universe.

In any case, I have wonderful neighbors, and my next door neighbor has agreed to take a look at it for me when he gets a chance, which knowing him will be in the wee hours before he goes to work. Thank God for wonderful people in the world.

Our little push mower works fine, but my arm is still not up to the pull start, and I didn't want to risk exacerbating a not-quite-healed injury. I can live with shaggy grass for a few days.

Marek and I drove back from Florida in tandem, though he had to go on to Ohio, and we were still in North Florida when my neighbor called to let me know that I was a new turkey mom, and that the little ones had hatched.

Of the original five eggs, Mama Muscovy rolled one out of the nest the second day, and when I replaced it in the nest, she rolled it out again, at which point I deferred to her greater knowledge in the area.

Of the four remaining eggs, all four hatched, but one poult died soon after hatching. The three remaining poults all seem healthy and active.

My neighbor called me later that evening to let me know that she had spotted one of our hens near the woods, and when she came to investigate, Mama duck and the three little ones were all out of the enclosure, though she had no idea how they got out.

She tried picking up Mama and bringing her back, but Mama put up a fuss, so she then gathered the three babies, and brought them back into the enclosure with Mama in tow. She successfully got them all safely inside by sundown.

The morning after we got home, Marek went out and discovered that the three babies were outside the enclosure, but got them back inside quickly, and blocked the section of fencing we use as a gate, thinking that was where they were getting out.

But a little while later two were out again, and after getting one back inside, Marek went to reach for the second, when it seemed to disappear into the tall grass in front of his eyes . . . we spent half an hour searching for the little guy, but neither of us even caught a glimpse.

I had Lolo and the cats inside, and I had left a message asking our other neighbor to keep his dog Hunter inside until the babies were secured, so we gave up for the moment and ate lunch.

When Marek went back outside, the little one was pacing around the outside of the enclosure, and when he saw Marek, scooted inside through the fencing. So 2" x 4" welded wire fencing is no problem for a days-old turkey poultry to go through with nary a pause.

Marek then left for Ohio, and my shoulder wasn't up to the task of building an enclosure yet, so I checked on them periodically, but the babies seem to have figured out that inside the enclosure is safer, and kept Mama duck happy.

The following day, I wrestled a piece of 1/2" x 1/2" x 24" hardware cloth from its resting place in the weeds of the enclosure, and proceeded to corral the babies on the south side of the chicken coop, inside the enclosure.

My logic was that they would have the run of the corralled area plus the lower coop, while the adult birds could have the upper coop and nesting area for themselves. I also figured that the adult birds could easily hop over the 24" tall hardware cloth to get in and out of the area.

Au contraire.

What I didn't count on was a panicked mama and babies, suddenly cut off from one another, suddenly unable to use their brains. At all.

I opened the side door to the coop, herded Mama around the coop no less than a dozen times, and was finally considering whether I was going to have to physically block tackle her and dump her in the corral with the babies, when she finally walked into the coop door unaided. Will wonders never cease.

We repeated the above scenario yesterday. Oh joy.

Update: This post was begun two days go. The story of my life of late.

Sadly, when I went to check on the baby turkeys yesterday, we learned that one had died. He was lying in the sun, so the fact that he was warm to the touch may have been as simple as that, but it was sad in any case.

Our weather has not been cold, but it has been cool, and the night before had dipped down to 38 degrees, though that was after mom was reunited with her babies.

I decided that I'd simply defer to leaving them with constant access to mom, despite the increased risk of escape, because I have little doubt that the ongoing stress of being separated from her added to the little one's demise. Mea culpa.

So as we were leaving for Nashville yesterday afternoon, I propped open the side door of the coop, without moving the little corralled area, so that Mama duck could settle into the coop naturally with her babies as the sun set.

I was pleased to see this morning that, while the poults are accompanying their ducky mom in her foraging across the enclosure, they are also choosing to go in and out of the corralled area for water, and possibly for a break from the rest of the flock.

Meanwhile, the rest of the flock have accepted the poults, including Rutger, so they are in no danger from the older birds, apart from having their worms stolen when I feed them meal worms.

The two remaining poults seem strong and healthy, and are quite active and vocal, so I'm praying that they make it long term. Time alone will tell.

Life is wonderful and getting better, better and better. And, hopefully, I'll be able to make posts more consistently from here on out.

The photo above was taken by me with my Samsung Galaxy Note 8, within the past few days, upon our return from Florida.

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art and flair courtesy of @PegasusPhysics