This morning I took my six turkeys in to be "processed." I bet I changed my mind at least 10 times before I drove away and left them behind. I feel like I've committed the worst kind of betrayal ever. Six months ago they were small enough to sit in my hand. All summer they followed me around the yard, sometimes getting into mischief but mostly interested in whatever I was doing. When I step out the door it had become a habit to call out my best "yelp, yelp, yelp," and "gobble, gobble, gobble;" but now I won't get a response. I've felt guilty all day, and in just 7 days I have to try to put one in the oven. I managed okay with the meat chickens, but these turkeys were different; they were like pets that I looked forward to seeing every day.