This morning I was running outside in my nightgown and flip flops to throw a stinky garbage bag outside and spotted a mother turkey with her little poults in the yard across the street.
The wildlife woman had recommended that I wait until I see such a thing and try to get the poult "adopted".
Thus began my 6 AM Nightgown Mission Impossible.
Roberta, thank God there's a thatch of woods sparing your view.
I plucked the poult from his roost within the large dog carrier and snuck across the street. The mother was alerted by my flip flops so I had to shed them by the mailbox and ran like a half-naked madwoman, barefoot, with a now-screaming poult across the street and onto my neigbbor's lawn.
The mother, who had began to flee, stopped dead when she heard the poult. I set him down and darted out of view. He cried, she called. He cried, she called. Another poult came out of the nearby woods and my little guy took it as a sign to run for his life.
I waited a minute or two before I dared a peek and saw all of them together, walking nonchalantly down the long drive.
Yay!
And I only startled one person but he was elderly passerby. At least now he has something to talk about back at the Village.