May 16, 2017 3 min read

It couldn’t have played out better if I had written it myself. He walked into my life last week, completely unexpected and largely undesired, but I just knew I had to take him home.

Let me back up a little.

He actually waddled into the store where I work, and I just knew I had to take him home. OK, maybe I had better back up a lot.

Let’s start with my daughter. My daughter has been asking for a duck as a pet for quite some time. She has been repeatedly told no, for two reasons. One, she already has a turtle, and two, her track record of caring for things that live outside is less than stellar.

However, when she began asking for a duck, my son began asking for a pet turkey. (I’ll pause a second while you process that request in your mind. Don’t worry, I don’t understand it, either.) He has been consistent with the request, even asking if the hatchery will ship him a poult when we get our next batch of chicks.

We laughed off the request at first, but his insistence on wanting one practically demanded that we consider it. At the very least, the fact that he hadn’t forgotten it over a period of several months suggested that this wasn’t a passing fancy.

Fast forward back to last week.

Bright and early Monday morning, a man walked through the doors of the store and asked for a large box.

He had a turkey in the back of his truck, he said, that he was taking to auction. Unfortunately, they won’t take loose poultry, and equally unfortunately, he had no box large enough to contain said turkey.

I went to the warehouse to look for a box, unsure that I wanted to ask the question I was planning to ask upon my return.

I found no box, but I did find a feed sack that I thought might contain him for the short trip down the road.

I brought it along, hoping I didn’t need to give it to him. Also, hoping that I did.

“What are you hoping to get for the turkey?” I asked when I came back into the showroom.

He gave me a price, and I told him that if he could bring the turkey back that afternoon, I would meet his price. He told me he was headed to work after he stopped at the auction, and it was now or never for my decision.

I bought the turkey.

He stayed outside in a dog crate for the duration of my shift, and then he was loaded into my car for transport home. Every time I checked my rearview mirror, I could see him staring at me, so I got home as fast as the law allowed.

My son was as happy as I could have hoped, spending a few hours in the barn with the turkey. He named him Roger, and has brought him various types of food, snacks and treats, trying to discern his favorites.

I hope he continues to enjoy the turkey over the coming months the way he has been this last week. If so, he will make an interesting addition to the menagerie we have on our farm. If not, he’ll make one monster meal come Thanksgiving.

Laura Zoeller can be reached at zoeller5@verizon.net.