Thanksgiving Dinner, Anyone?

Meet Chester.

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But don’t get too attached.  He will be going to Thanksgiving Camp next week.

We’ve raised our own meat before, but never in the form of a turkey.  Or 3 to be more specific.  There’s a first for everything, and they provide a significant amount of entertainment.

As a threesome, they hang together most of the time, and have a stealthy habit of following a farmer close behind when said farmer is not looking, and quickly stopping, rubbernecking, acting as if they had only been innocently scanning for bugs, when farmer turns to investigate.

Turkey:  “Quick, follow her!  She’s on the move!  Let’s see what devilish treachery she’s up to now.  But REMEMBER, keep your cover AT ALL TIMES.”

Farmer:  Those crazy turkeys are following me again.  They must hope I have food.  (Turns to look, concerned they might test her calf muscles for food value).

Turkey:  “Now!  Look for bugs!  Keep your eyes to the side and whatever you do, DON’T look her in the eye.”

Chester is the leader of the pack and appears to be the only male, which, in my view is unfortunate for him.  I’m not sure if male turkeys have testosterone or not (that will be a Google search at a later date) but if Chester does, he seems to be uncomfortably swimming in it.

Male turkeys demonstrate their maleness by puffing up their feathers to mimic their famous counterparts in Kindergarteners-Learn-About-The-Pilgrims Thanksgiving cartoons.  Surprisingly, they look incredibly similar to your childhood hand traced on brown construction paper, cut out and adorned with a beak and feathers.  Feather balls with upright tails may be a dead on attraction to the ladies, but I think the blue face, red danglies, internal African drumming and nose booger definitely seal the deal.  Chester starts out, in the one minute a day (not consecutive) testosterone is not coursing through his veins, looking like this:

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But approach a chicken, a dog, a person, a goat, a mouse, and his maleness takes over.  Feathers in full explosion, he HOLDS HIS BREATH until his face turns blue, his pale neck dots turn into flame red dangling warts and the nose booger slithers out.  The nose booger starts it’s testosterone free life as an elevated blip in the topside of the beak, but during the whole breath holding episode, grows to approximately 14 inches.  And flaps.  All over the place.  With every head turn, every gobble-gobble-gobble, every bite of grain, it flaps, flops and surely attracts the ladies (or perhaps scares off predators?).  This entire physical transformation lasts all most of his waking hours.  He should be the spokesman for the side effects warning of a Viagra commercial…if it lasts more than 4 hours….

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In the mean time, and only every so often, African drummers sound off a mating call from the depths of his being, as if he needed any more help getting a date.

Would you like to join us for Thanksgiving?

  •  Chester and The Goat Cheese Lady

P.S. This post ran in its edited version on the Indyblog on November 22, 2015.

About The Goat Cheese Lady

I am Lindsey. At first I was a city girl. Growing up, the closest thing I had to farm animals were a cat and a cockatiel. In 2009, Herbert (my husband) and I bought our first milk goat and I instantly became an urban farmgirl, attempting to balance city and farm life..before I knew “urban homesteading” was a thing. That’s when we began The Goat Cheese Lady Farm, hence The Goat Cheese Lady blog you’re visiting now. After moving to the country in 2014, I embarked on life as a rural farmgirl. We continued teaching farm and cheesemaking classes, raising more goats and began construction on our cheese creamery. But life had other plans and in 2017, we decided that, due to financial and health issues, we had to close the farm for business. No more classes, no more creamery, a lot less milking. We went back to off farm jobs, I as an Occupational Therapist, Herbert in construction with his business, D&A Home Remodeling. At that point, I made a silent promise to myself that I would corral my entrepreneurial mind and focus on a job for a year. Well, it has been a year and I am back. Not to classes, cheese, soap or lotion, but back to writing. I love it. I’m not sure where it will lead me, but that’s where I’m starting. I’ll continue to write as The Goat Cheese Lady for now, and whatever the future holds, I’ll let you know. Our two boys are 14 and 11 and continue to be louder than my sister and I ever were. We have two dogs, Montaña and Flash, a cat, Jumpy, a flock of chickens and three goats. Yes, we still have Lucy, the goat who helped us start it all and was milked by over 1,000 people. She’s retired but still the boss. Chocolate provides enough milk for our family with some to spare for the dogs. Soccer friends, school friends, coyotes and mice are frequent visitors. There are way too many flies and every so often we see an owl. I’m glad you’re here. Sometimes you’ll laugh out loud, other times you’ll be inspired to appreciate the small things. My hope is that, over your morning cup of coffee or your afternoon work break, you’ll enjoy the antics and inspiration that are my daily life. Lindsey
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