And his name is Tom.
Please. Stop gushing over my super-awesome multi-colored chicken coop. Quite frankly, its getting a tad embarrassing.
Tom sits in the doorway of the chicken coop and makes all sorts of noise if ever we try to come and gather eggs. I don’t speak “turkey,” but I am pretty sure he is gobbling threats such as:
“I am going to peck out your eyes!”
“Take one more step and I will kill you!”
“I will poop on your toes if you try and open this door again!”
I don’t like Tom.
I mean, really. His head is blue. What’s up with that?
Well, I’ll tell you one thing I know for sure. I am not going near Tom. I send the girls to do the egg gathering. And, of course, they come back and whine:
“But, Mom! That turkey is soooo scary!”
And I look calmly at them and LIE:
“No, he’s just a turkey. You will be just fine. Now run along like good girls and get the eggs.”
I know, I know. Mother of the Year.
But there is NO WAY I am going near that turkey. Did I mention he was ugly? He’s got like some long dangly thing from his beak. I like him not. We have him on The Craigslist, but I’m ready to pay someone to take him away. Because, did I mention I loathe him?
In other news, we are still hard at work fencing our property and getting ready for a garden. My body is so sore from all this manual labor. It’s hard work keeping up with David, you know?
Me: Do you want me to get the 4-wheeler and and dump that trailer full of sticks? I can get Daisy Mae to help me?
David: No. But how about you just help Daisy Mae.
Daisy Mae is a stud. I cannot tell a lie. I have no idea how to work that 4-wheeler machine and she knows all about it.
She starts it for me.
She reminds me where the brakes are.
She helps me figure out how to put it in reverse.
She’s not scared to actually accelerate.
Daisy Mae: Mom. Will you just let me drive it?
It’s for the best.
So, she drives the 4-wheeler and I stay close by. We have to take trailers-full of sticks down to some big pile. The sticks will sit in the pile until Jesus returns. But they are being moved, nonetheless, because this is what my husband tells me to do and who knows what goes on in that head of his?
So we, and of course, by “we” I mean Daisy Mae, get the trailer to the dumping spot and then we have to unhitch the trailer.
I know, I know. I can barely understand what’s going on to even type this out.
Guess who has to unhitch the trailer?
Daisy Mae.
Guess who figure out the best way to tilt the trailer to dump this sticks?
Daisy Mae.
Guess who is able to back the 4-wheeler up to the hitch-thingie-ma-bob?
Daisy Mae.
Not me.
I decided it was time to do my fair share, so I told her that I would hitch the trailer back up. And yes. I just said “hitch.” Next time, I am totes wearing my flannel shirt. It will make my husband swoon, I just know it.
So, I got the hitch all hitched up and told Daisy Mae to go ahead and pull the trailer back up the hill.
And the trailer promptly fell off the hitch.
Daisy Mae (*sighs patiently*): Mom! We’ve been through this. You need to make the holes line up here.
Me: Um . . . show me again?
Daisy Mae: Oh, I’ll just do it. Step back.
And she did it. And in about two months, I shall no longer have a purpose in this family.
But things are just so scary for me.
Driving 4-wheelers!
Sexing Rabbits! (that’s not as naughty as it sounds)
Dealing with my arch-enemy, Tom!
I mean, I am really not cut out for this life. There is a dead goldfish floating in a mason jar about ten feet from me right now.
And I am too scared to open it and flush it down the toilet.
It’s been there for, oh, about two days.
Help!
In other exciting farm and ranch news, we are apparently getting an 8-week old kitten tonight.
Because that’s exactly what we need.
More animals.
Oh, girlfriend. My life is so uneventful compared to yours.
Except that today, P is for Pinkeye in my house. Three pink eyes, to be exact. That’s eventful.
I like the petrified pun. Holla! We had a rooster once and he would attack me and no one else. I can’t tell you what my husband did with him. 😉
Uh-oh, what pun? I thought petrified meant scared?! I mean, I know it also means hardened and whatnot . . .
I so admire you!
And Daisy Mae is one amazing chick! She is a Lumberjack’s Wife in the making! 🙂
I just sat here at the table reading this post, laughing my head off while my 16 month old laughed at me. We both enjoyed this post! I can TOTALLY see myself in your shoes. My 4 year old knows how to drive a 4-wheeler . . . and I do not. Nor would I even want to lay eyes on that dangle-thingy that comes with a mean, menacing turkey. Gross and yuck!
Holla Daisy Mae!
Daisy Mae is da bomb !!
Turkey= sunday lunch……..We know how David loves him some butcherin’ !
At least the kitten is not a calf !………yet
I just want to go on record by reminding you that at Easter…I warned you about the evils of turkeys! They are mean and scary. They really do gobble threats, of this I am sure. I am totally on your side. Best of luck!!!
Mmm…sushi for dinner!
Just think of all the calories you are burning whilst working the fence, walking behind the 4 wheeler, and trying to hitch the trailer. Daisy Mae rocks! I am very impressed with her skillz and confidence.
David likes hunting and the Lumberjacklings need to eat. Problem solved. There won’t even be anything left to hang on the wall so its a win all the way around.
Turkeys are mean. Proceed with caution. Daisy Mae and my daughter2 are kindred spirits : )
Tom is gorgeous! Oh that blue head! 🙂
I love how you let your kids go in and face your arch enemy – lol. Made me smile.
Looks like cute kids and a fun life!
Leigh from A to Z
http://www.oneandoneequalstwinfun.com
Holla Daisy May! She’s a true farm girl in the making!
That turkey is terrifying!
Kittens, however, are my very favorite thing. Enjoy!
Isn’t it great to have kids! My son used to pick ticks off our dog and cat, no problem, when he was 5 years old. I, however, couldn’t even look at them.
Best wishes on the turkey problem resolution. On our “Green Acres” farm, as kids, we had a very mean rooster that would attack us, so I’m not thinking you want to put your kids through the trauma we endured (he drew blood). Besides, he’s way bigger. He may need to be a May Day dinner.
My dad lived on a small holding and my mom was a city girl. When she visited the farm for the first time she asked about those dangly things on the turkey. My dad told her it was his testicles… and she believed him!!!
Love the bit about the dead goldfish! I nearly choked on my cereal!
I remember a few years back you all gave Dad a Turkey Fryer for Father’s Day…………..
Shall I bring it by?
I’ll bring side dishes!
Daisy Mae is adorable. You might consider putting a helmet on her when she drives that contraption. Explaining why she wasn’t wearing one in the ER will not be fun for you. And if you’ve ever had a child with a serious concussion who lost the ability to write legibly as a result of said concussion besides scaring the wits out his parents, wearing a helmet is a small inconvenience.
I sooooo wish we were neighbors. I would love to buy some of your poo poo eggs and observe all of this fantastic family fun! I love it!
I was just thinking what Melissa said above: my life is so boring compared to yours. Glad you write it all down!
Tom looks terrifying. Can you sweep him aside with a broom? Wear body-armour? Or make friends with him and feed him turkey treats – whatever that might comprise? He sure is a good-looker 😉
Aw, poor Tom! he looks a little scraggly. I’ll bet he’ll be better when he settles down a bit and maybe grows a few feathers back LOL Pride you know…
You should introduce Tom to the “Blue Men” Maybe he just needs someone to relate to. Better yet, maybe they are looking for a fourth to round out their group!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eagbog8_MGI
Holla Jody! Eat the darn turkey. Amazing Daisy Mae – a combination of stud and girlie girl all wrapped in one adorable and sweet package with her farm machines and her pedicures. Be nice to the kittie.
We had a tom turkey when I was growing up–mean old cuss, always chasing me in the middle of the night when I’d walk out to flip the switch to turn on our water pump. I started carrying at 2×4 with me and playing turkey baseball…