Talking To Turkeys

MrQ's farmer contemporary died at Christmastime the year before last. His family continued to raise turkeys but when we collected ours last year we were told that would be the last.

Yesterday Mishka and I went to another farm in the village to order one for my daughter, an 18lb (8.16 kg) hen bird, as we have always had on the recommendation of my late mother-in-law. She is cooking for her husband's family. I  only need a smallish bird as it will be just MrQ, our son and me on Christmas day.

I met the young farmer on the drive. He was rolling one of those huge straw bales along for the turkeys' bedding as there was a puncture in his fork lift. He took my order on his phone and I asked if I could return to photograph the birds. He suggested that, as it was raining, I come the next day when the weather might be better.

I loved standing and talking to the very vocal, happy birds this morning in their fields bordering the church where my daughter was married. Mishka was a good girl and didn't bark. It was touching to see how interested she was in them from her vantage point in the van.

The magnificent stag in my image is in perfect condition. His snood and wattle are very bright red. Hens have snoods and wattles too but theirs are much smaller. I've added a hen to extras who is rushing to greet me.