Sometimes Pinky is excited to see me, sometimes he'll come when I call his name. Usually he won't. Sometimes he'll wolf down sunflower seeds from a gallon jug; sometimes he'll peck at millet seeds on the ground. Moody at times, jubilant at others. There's a small area behind the iron fence where Pinky can see me and, behind my dinner table, I can see him. I wait to see Pinky, he waits for me to bring him food and water. Pinky is the only turkey I know who will not fly over the fence and into my yard.
Link to this comment:
All Comments (0)