Waddling Wattles

Eleven turkeys dawdled up the ridge just under the office window. One, the fattest, stood guard as the rest of them pecked around for food. Then they turned tail and moseyed back down the ridge. Their wattles glowed a luminous red in the late afternoon sun. The dog, by my feet, never even sensed their presence.

Hard to imagine eating those beautiful things.

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Filed under Jean Zimmerman, Nature

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