Remember the wild turkeys who were spotted in our backyard on closing day? Well, they're frequent guests. I'm not sure why they're so fascinated with one corner of our backyard; perhaps it's an awesome bug hunting ground. Fortunately, they're pleasant fellows who mind their own business and will waddle away whenever they're caught grazing. They're quiet, too, and haven't gobbled yet. I'm kind of disappointed about that. We joke that they're so cordial because they don't want to become Thanksgiving dinner.
|"Nope, we're just leavin' now. Don't mean to disturb."|
Then, enter my two Corgis. They're loud, hyper, and slightly neurotic. Whenever they catch the turkeys trespassing in their backyard, they drop everything that they're doing and erupt with their boisterous howls, their voices cracking the entire time. In their minds, they think they're all big, bad, and cool, like this:
When, in reality, they're actually this:
The turkeys always retreat eons before the Corgis stop howling. After it is mutually determined that their amount and intensity of howls is sufficient enough, Zubie and Crash prance around the perimeter of the yard to guard their turf. The amount of pride displayed on their faces is hilarious, and I always expect them to pound on their chests victoriously like King Kong. Good thing we don't really have neighbors.
|"I'm so awesome."|
But the turkeys present a problem. You see, Zubie and Crash instinctively flock like the salmon of Capistrano to the turkeys' grazing site. They not only eat what the turkeys leave behind, but they enjoy rolling in it, as well. Of course they do. They're dogs.
|The face of a pup who just rolled around in turkey poop.|
Needless to say, our Corgis have received many, many baths since we've moved in. However, I'm sure they strongly believe that it's all worth it.