Alas, in mid-March almost all the wild hens had been seduced by those gorgeous gobblers and are now nest-building in the forest. Bright Eyes, though, a small hen who may be immature, is still coming by. Bright Eyes, the "love of my life," may be among the smallest of the hens, but she's also the smartest. She alone can acurately calculate how fast and how long she can eat from the cup of birdseed I'm holding before another hen pecks at her. When Bright Eyes and I are alone she'll eat lesurely. But many times I've seen her squeeze between a half dozen other wild turkeys. I thrust out the cup to her and she knocks off a half dozen bites in under two seconds, then backs off before the other hens know what happened. And every assessment of risk in between.
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