I bought four Bourbon turks and three of the babies died mysteriously with no sign of illness. The last baby is spoiled rotten. He loves my oatmeal but only wants to eat it off the spoon with me talking to him. When I'm talking to him he backs way up so he can try to fly at me so I'll hold him. He wants to be held all the time. Ain't nobody eating my baby turkey. His name is Jefferson after the best Bourbon I ever tasted.