Pauly Turkey is a good old stick. Well not so much a stick, really. She has been broodified for several weeks now and her loyal chum, Lucy the Aylesbury Duck, lays an egg each day for her to nestle down on. They can be found in the back of the stable with us, snuggled together and as warm as toast. In fact Pauly takes the opportunity when Mum gets the hose out to nip smartly into the yard and have her toes bathed so that she might cool down a little. Then she will usually zip along to the feed trough, clicking to herself as goes and search for tasty morsels.
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For a turkey, Pauly is remarkably agile. So as not to waste a second she moves as if treading on hot coals - lifting each leg high in the air and rolling slightly as she speeds along. We all like Pauly. And she is very useful for cuddling down with if we get chilly.
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Lucy has bad legs. She wasn't made for walking great distances. Her destiny was, like Pauly, for something else. We never speak of this. So Mum lifts Lucy into her pool for a bathe in the morning, which she loves.
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Good friends and the strangest of companions. In fact as we settle down at night I look around and think that we are a bit of an odd bunch. At the moment there is Big Bob, Buff Bob, Brighton Bob, Broody Bob and Black Bob. Reuben and Irene, Dainty, Sylvia and me. And whoever else wants to join us are all most welcome. Gordon and Sylvia xxx
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