Pear Tree Pinata?

So I look out the window as a pretty blue SUV is driving at a snail’s pace past my house.  I’m thinking, what is this now?  Lots of people turn around in our driveway for whatever reason.  But they kept going, just super slow.

Then I see why.

The turkeys.

Turkeys have been the bane of my existence since Doug decided he wanted to raise them.  Don’t get me wrong, homegrown meat is amazing.  SO fresh, you know exactly what’s in it, no antibiotics or chemicals or growth hormones… I’m not like a must-eat-organic-foodie; hardly.  However, when you watch your food grow, you know what’s what.  Just sayin’.

Anyway.  So these darn turkeys are going across the road.  Doug has spent countless hours trying to prevent their escape by putting electric fence up on half of our yard.  Well, the turkeys have discovered the OTHER side of the house, and that the driveway on THAT side of the house goes across the street as well!

It’s a conspiracy, I’m telling you.

So I call Doug, and I’m like, do I need to get in the truck and go chase these stupid birds back home?  As I’m talking to him, I’m watching them run, yes, RUN (which if you’ve never seen a turkey run…oh my WORD. They waddle, but quickly.  One foot at a time, somehow side to side and forward at the same time.  It’s freaking hilarious) single file down the road.

Soon they are out of sight.  UN-BE-lievable. So Doug tells me to go into the garage and get some corn in a coffee can, start shaking it, and then throw it down towards the pear tree (away from the road) and put Molly on her chain.  Molly can’t get to the turkeys, but she can come reeeaalllly close.

Well, by the time Jacob and I get shoes on and get out there, the little buggers are waddling back down the opposite side of the driveway and back into the fenced in area.  I kid you not.  They have a spy or something.  So.  I’m like, what can I do to keep these stupid birds in the yard?

Pears.  They aren’t quite ripe yet, so they’re not falling freely. I grab what I can reach (being 5’4” that’s not much), then start shaking branches, ducking and covering, dodging falling pears.  I’m like, Newton’s got nothing on me.

So then I can’t get any more.  Jacob is trying to throw the pairs that fall up in the tree to get more to fall, but his aim isn’t so good, and I nearly get whopped in the head.   Thankfully I was watching as the pear made a beeline toward my head and was able to dodge it.

As I’m trying to figure out how to get more pears down, I spot Jacob’s little metal garden hoe.  HA!  Perfect.  So here I am, in my pj’s (of course it was first thing this morning) and hoodie swinging this hoe up into the tree like I’m beating the heck out of a piñata or something.  Good grief.  What next????

After about 30 minutes my arms were about to fall off, the turkeys (and chickens, and dogs) were all chasing each other trying to eat the same pear (even though there were a hundred on the ground by now)…Jacob’s in off-white pajamas, trips on a pear, barely misses all the bird poo….Ug.  Another day in the life of a farm wife. (Lord give me strength!!)