A Horn by Any Other Name

So the other day one of my wild turkeys got close enough for me to kiss and being a woman of proper breeding (we had not been formally introduced), I of course did not. But even so, at such proximity I couldn't help but notice the amazing (and only mildly suggestive) protuberance rising pretty much straight off her forehead.
Oh I'd seen this feature before, but there was something about being so close to it that gave me pause. And whilst pausing, I remembered that only last year, I myself was host to a startlingly similar protuberance which I took to our local doctor who sent me to an eye surgeon who told me that what I had was a cutaneous horn.
"Of all things" I said to myself whereupon he draped a sterile cloth over my face with a hole cut out just big enough to accommodate the horn, and then set out to remove it all the while chatting with his lovely assistant as though I were not there, under the cloth, awash in a swirl of relief that I would no longer have to explain to people why I was knitting such a tiny toque.

I think wild turkeys have a plethora of admirable traits but I must say, I hope this is the end of my attempt to emulate them too literally.

flaunting it

So with (Canadian) Thanksgiving weekend bearing down on us, you would think that any turkeys running free would want to remain thus, and toward this end, would assume a discrete profile.

Not so the wild turkeys who frequent my yard. These birds appear to be flaunting their lifestyle, parading their free-range capabilities for any and all to see.

Perhaps these turkeys have been reading my blog through my patio glass door, and they know they've taken up residence with a freshly minted vegetarian.

Nothing safer than a new, lentil thumping convert.

And speaking of Thanksgiving, here on my island (Gabriola) we celebrate the long weekend by throwing open the doors to over 50 artist studios and inviting the public to come and see what we have been up to. For more info, check here.