Spur, Oak, and Snow- A Turkey Roleplay

[Butterscotchbitesfinger]

Accepted! We may begin the rp though I might be on and off.
@Butterscotchbitesfinger
@RoostersAreAwesome
I can’t remember who asked for a tag.

Thx

 

[Butterscotchbitesfinger]

Thx

Also btw I might not be super active, I’ll try but Wilbur (my dog) has just been diagnosed with cancer so I’m busy)

 

[Crestcrazy2]

Also btw I might not be super active, I’ll try but Wilbur (my dog) has just been diagnosed with cancer so I’m busy)

Oh I’m so sorry! I hope he is doing ok

 

[Amer]

Also btw I might not be super active, I’ll try but Wilbur (my dog) has just been diagnosed with cancer so I’m busy)

(Not Wilbur! I like him.)

 

[Butterscotchbitesfinger]

Oh I’m so sorry! I hope he is doing ok

He will get better, it’s treatable cancer so I have faith in him)

(Not Wilbur! I like him.)

Yeah unfortunately. He is only 2, way too young for this but he just seems to have some real bad luck lol)

 

[Amer]

Acorn opened her eyes, blinking in the sunlight. She was accustomed to the traditional rays of sunlight from the east, but this morning the shadows were noticeably absent and the light was exceptionally blinding.
The sun. One of those stubbornly uncontrollable factors that nature presented. Fortunately, as much as Acorn loved control, she also relished the challenge that inexorable Mother Nature provided. To Acorn it was a game. If she wasn’t thriving despite perverse conditions, she was hardly living at all.
She set her beak into a grim smile as she inspected her surroundings. Acorn was perched in a skinny tree, on a skinny bough that bent under her weight. On the ground lay the source of the extra light, a clean and reflective coat of freshly-fallen snow. A few flakes still fell.
Young trees surrounded Acorn. Perching in or around these were the members of her flock.
We are in a pickle, Acorn thought, mentally reviewing the events that brought her to the tree. The shed has burned. The house has burned. Inevitably, no food, no shelter. Food is hard enough to find in the winter, and now there’s snow on the ground.
And some of these jakes are absolute chickens-incompetents in turkey slang- when it comes to foraging. Wonderful.

 

[Butterscotchbitesfinger]

Bessy stood, her legs only just holding her rather plump, well fed body. She had been perching in a tree and snoozing but a blinding ray of sun which hit her in the eyes woke her quickly. She fluttered down to the ground attempting to appear graceful but appeared more like a balloon with a slab of concrete tied to it sinking to the ground, once on the ground Bessy sauntered over to the base of the tree. No other young turkeys would even glance her direction, they where far to frightened and in love with her to dishonour her wishes.
She had made it known long ago that she would be next to take over as lead hen, whether the turkeys believed her or not was a whole different story but nobody had the confidence to challenge her on it. At. All.
Despite being next to take over the flock life for Bessy could be pretty lonely, she had spent so long lording over the other young turkeys that she had never really made any friends and as she got older the more and more she began to think her chances of getting a mate where lower than any other female in the flock.

 

[Amer]

Domestic Flock- Young Forest
Cold hard reality was almost refreshing compared to Slate’s firey dreams, but it was still paralyzing.
Cold, white snowflakes fell from the sky, a frosty antithesis to the hot ash that had fallen the night before. A beautiful and terrifyingly disorienting white sheet of something blanketed the ground. Snow? The substance seemed to match the old hens’ description. Slate had never seen snow before, other than a few flakes that never “stuck.”
Slate’s head was in the grip of his worries. I can’t go home! It’s been burned! I must live in the woods with the wolves. And the lack of food and shelter. And my flock.
The fence that usually separated Slate and the rangers that teased him was gone. He felt terribly exposed. And yet, he knew his only chance for survival lay with them. So he fluffed up his feathers and tucked his head far within, whimpering with fear and waiting to see what would come.
~
Spur Flock-Young Forest to keep the flocks in close proximity.

Thrush woke to falling snow. And he awoke beside his brother.
“Good morning, Duncan,” he said, sighing. “Looks like we’ve had our first fall last night.” Thrush didn’t exactly enjoy digging through snow, and the fist fall indicated the start of a whole season of that blundering.

 

[Amer]

Spur Flock
Pepe awoke to falling snow and released a loud, fruity laugh. “Snow! Already! It seems like only yesterday when the last bits were melting in spring!” The branch groaned appreciatively as it snapped back up into place when Pepe leaped down to the ground. A large, Pepe-shaped dent was left in the snow at the place of impact, but the couple of steps he took afterwards were almost dainty. He turned back to inspect his fresh, beautiful footprints before staring back up at his flockmates in the trees. “Anyone care to join me? It’s quite pretty before it gets tricky to scratch through.
~
Oak Flock -Young Forest
Willow awoke, safe and warm, in her foster-mother’s feathers. (Who is it today?)

 

[Crestcrazy2]

Domestic Flock- Young Forest
Cold hard reality was almost refreshing compared to Slate’s firey dreams, but it was still paralyzing.
Cold, white snowflakes fell from the sky, a frosty antithesis to the hot ash that had fallen the night before. A beautiful and terrifyingly disorienting white sheet of something blanketed the ground. Snow? The substance seemed to match the old hens’ description. Slate had never seen snow before, other than a few flakes that never “stuck.”
Slate’s head was in the grip of his worries. I can’t go home! It’s been burned! I must live in the woods with the wolves. And the lack of food and shelter. And my flock.
The fence that usually separated Slate and the rangers that teased him was gone. He felt terribly exposed. And yet, he knew his only chance for survival lay with them. So he fluffed up his feathers and tucked his head far within, whimpering with fear and waiting to see what would come.
~
Spur Flock-Young Forest to keep the flocks in close proximity.

Thrush woke to falling snow. And he awoke beside his brother.
“Good morning, Duncan,” he said, sighing. “Looks like we’ve had our first fall last night.” Thrush didn’t exactly enjoy digging through snow, and the fist fall indicated the start of a whole season of that blundering.

Duncan was already awake, sitting quietly by the rest of his siblings, a blank look on his face as he stared off into nothingness. A voice brought him back from his thoughts and he turned his head, “ good morning, thrush. Indeed we have” He said quietly, looking back out toward the white blanket of snow that covered the woods. “ let’s just hope it’s not too deep”