As I was shaving this morning I heard someone outside the bathroom window say, "Gobble, gobble." I peeked through the blinds and was only mildly surprised to see a male turkey ambling forlornly through the side yard. This was a big, black-feathered dude, and he looked a little lost.

You don't often see a tom without his sisters and his cousins and his aunts, so I had to hope (for his sake) that they weren't far away.

If I'd been fully dressed, I'd have rushed out to see what help I could be. I'd have taken the camera with me, of course, because he was just about as beautiful as it's possible for a turkey to get. By the time I was in a better state to venture out, he was nowhere to be seen.

But as I was taking off for my errands later on this morning, I saw him wandering in circles in the grassy area at the other end of my driveway. I still didn't help, though, and I still didn't have the camera ready. By the time I got back home, he had gone (somewhere). I'm sure his entourage met up with him and showed him the true path to Turkeylandia.

They really do say "gobble, gobble," you know. If you've never hung out with turkeys, I'm sorry for you. It's great for the self-esteem.

Late this afternoon I saw a hen turkey in the yard. I didn't worry as much about her, because she was walking with a more assured gait. It almost looked as if she knew where she was going. She walked straight to the opening in the fence and disappeared through it. If I had to bet, I'd wager she made it home before Tom did. That's just a guess, though.