When I was a kid my grandpa raised turkeys.  I always thought they were funny critters, they move slowly and “talk” a lot.  I remember when he’d butcher them.  I was maybe seven or eight and I would feel bad for them.  The meat was fabulous though.

My mom raised some turkeys too.  She had this Tom who was dumb as a rock, but very handsome.  She kept him for six years before giving him to a friend.  That old guy fell in love with an empty milk jug and would follow people around.  He’d strut and fan his feathers out.  I wonder if he’s still alive, he’d be like ten now! 

A couple weeks ago, I bought a baby turkey.  I’ve always wanted to try raising one.  He’d come in handy at Thanksgiving.  I brought him home with every intention of having him for dinner.  We name all our animals, even the ones that we eat.  Our little guy was strutting along the sidewalk as we pondered names.  Rick said we should name him Humphrey.  Humphrey?  Yes, that fits him.

Now here is where the story takes an unexpected twist.  I fell in love with Humphrey.  He follows me around chattering the whole time.  He lies on my chest and preens his feathers and will fall asleep there.  I let him in the house when Ricky isn’t around.  (Shh . . . don’t tell him!)  He had a little “accident” in the living room and I laughingly threatened him with rubbing his nose in it and throwing him out.  I wonder if turkeys can be housetrained? 

Right now he’s just tiny, maybe a month old.  I find it hilarious when he tries to puff himself up and does the turkey strut.  He only has feathers on his wings!  The rest of him is baby fuzz! 

Humphrey gets excited when I get home from work.  He comes running down the stairs to greet me.  It’s the funniest thing I ever saw.  Just this morning he was running after my car as I was leaving, it was really sad.  I rolled my window down and yelled “Go home Humphrey.”  He stood there looking at me and right now I’m wondering if he’s alright. 

I turn over rocks and flip over wood so he can get to the bugs underneath.  He has a particular fondness for rollie-pollies.  The other day I took a picture of him with my cell phone and set it to be my wallpaper.  I showed it to Cheyenne and she couldn’t stop giggling.

So that night I said to Rick “I don’t think we’ll be eating Humphrey.”  He was a little flabbergasted, but that’s that, I can’t do it.  I’ve gone all mushy for a turkey.  Other than food I thought of an awesome use for him . . . lawn ornament!