March going
I heard gobbling before dawn. I continued to hear it on and off until I got up. Went downstairs and told my partner I heard gobbling, asked him if he was gobbling (joke). Then we saw these turkeys, seemingly trapped in the orchard. They paced back and forth for quite awhile, agitated by the feeling of being fenced in. The gate was open so it was a simple matter to free themselves. Eventually, they figured it out.
I wanted to walk before all the snow disappeared, so I went out after breakfast. I walked my usual route. I’ve started to trespass on these people’s property. Their picnic table is such a nice place to sit for a quick rest and to empty my boots of little stones. I can tell no one is around because there is a snow berm blocking their driveway untouched by tire tracks.
The view from the picnic bench. The mountains of Acadia are obscured by low clouds. It’s high tide.
There was a loon in the water.
It was a good day to notice tracks. I think these were made by a raccoon. I’m not great at identifying animal prints, but the long distinct fingers seem raccoon-y to me.
And here’s the trail marking the turkeys’ exit route from the orchard.
oh, I do miss the Rio Grande turkeys from our Texas Hill Country days … how they flew up into the trees in front of the house to roost each night … shed molted feathers in the side yard each summer … and left tracks in the dust of the dry creek bed …
and now I wonder … why didn’t your captive critters think to simply fly over the fence? … ha!
I have seen them fly over a fence, so I know they can do it. There’s a sort of wobbly white string along the top of this, maybe they didn’t want to tangle with it. I don’t know how much sense to attribute to turkeys! Eventually, they walked out the open gate. Maybe they’d been there all night and needed daylight to see it?