Bad Hair Day

Poor Inga.  Not only is she the lowest on the goat totem pole (I don't know why they are so mean to her), her winter coat has come in all cattywampus like a back full of cowlicks that no amount of brushing will smooth out.  Sheila's coat has thickened, but is still sleek and shiny like a seal.  She hasn't had a bad hair day in her life.  Tessie's coat is hard to describe; it harkens back to her long-haired sire.  Mostly short, there are patches of long hair along the spine and especially over her rump.  It's pretty, but different.

I kept thinking of Big Bird from Sesame Street yesterday.  My birds weren't yellow, but most certainly big.  There will be days when not one turkey shows up, and then there are those like yesterday morning when over thirty of those big birds came running when I went out to feed.  It's pretty amazing when they come en masse.

Fifteen or more of my other big birds were sunning with wings outspread on fence posts and poles.  After all this time, they've finally decided I mean them no harm (as long as I move slowly) and will hold their position until I come within eight feet or so before taking wing.  Even so, they only move a few posts away.  I know it's weird, but I just love vultures.

I'd been on Ladder 911 duty most of the afternoon.  Camille checks in every hour or so to let me know she's gotten down safely.  On her last call of the day, she was laughing because she found paint in her hair.  It was a bad-hair epidemic!