In which I present The Daily Turkey: wisdom from the world of poults

The young of most species is cuter than the adult version, and much cuter than the the adolescent version.

About five days old, and quite charming

In the case of turkey poults, the cuteness doesn't last long.

About a week and a half old, starting to fledge.

Soon enough, those cute little fuzz'ums are wearing weird fashions, demanding to use the family car, and

We sleep with our butts in the puddle, because all the kids are doing it.

staying out until the strange hours of the night.

Noo no no no, we don't smoke it no more...

Truthfully, they stay out at night because they can't find the doorway of the shed.

Doorway?  What doorway?

 They also eat junk food at every opportunity.
 

They peck the side of the shed, the paint on the barn wall,
and the gravel in the paddock, but shriek in fear
and run away when I toss in some homemade bread.

All of their splendid decision-making is adding to their personal beauty...or not.

Veloci-vulture.  Not a good look.

They are a little short on survival strategies.

Hey Dragon, we can share dinner with you, right?

We totally won't fall asleep and drown in this tank.

And increasingly short on charm.

It's hard to soar with eagles when your mum was a turkey.

 At least they provide regular doses of humor.

We are bored.  Also:  what's a pun?

We were worried that we would get too attached to the little ones to be able to eat them later.

Not worried now.  

Turkey dinner:  sounds good to me!

Thanksgiving is coming.  We just need to keep the little idiots alive until November. 

Sounds easy, right?  

Sigh.