Halloween Story

Halloween Night  I was jolted awake by shrieking outside my second-floor bedroom window. My heart  pounded wildly as I peered at the alarm clock--3:25. Again there was the unearthly shrieking, sounding like nothing I’d ever heard before. I bounded out of bed and ran to the open window, shivering as I peered into the darkness.

The moonless night was illuminated by only the feeble glow from a streetlight down the block. When my eyes adjusted, I could see a shadowy creature moving by the woods bordering my yard. The hulking figure stopped near a tree twenty feet away. It seemed to be staring up at me with glowing eyes. Terrified, I backed away from the window and moved to the side. I peered cautiously from behind the curtain for movement. The creature was now near a tree where the light was better. I gasped when I saw its size--it looked like a Bigfoot!

OK, this can’t be real. I live on a suburban cul-de-sac near parkland, not the deep forest.  There is no way there would be a Bigfoot outside my window. And yet, there was something huge walking on two

legs through the trees. To my relief it seemed to be leaving.

Oh no! It’s leaving! I suddenly realized I needed to get a picture. I snatched my cellphone from the dresser and dashed back to the window to catch a shot before it was out of sight. I knew the flash might attract its attention but a photo would be priceless.

Back at the window, cellphone in hand, I desperately scanned the treeline for movement. There was total stillness. Still shaking from excitement, I sighed in disappointment.

I gazed out into the trees once more before giving up. Just then, an enormous, hairy hand slammed against the window screen in front of me. I screamed and fell back on the floor. The shrieking beast was standing directly under my window and had destroyed it. All thoughts of getting a photo were now gone as I struggled to my feet and groped for the bedroom door. Running into the hall, I could hear the window crashing as it was ripped from the house. I ran down the stairs, dialing 911.

“There’s something trying to get into my house!” I screamed at the operator. “Hurry, it’s trying to kill me!” The 911 operator kept asking me inane questions as I frantically ran from one window to another to see where it was now.

Suddenly, three black SUVs pulled up in front. Two men-in-black exited from each, two came to the door while the others scattered to the area around the house. “Who are you? Where are the cops?” I asked in confusion.

“We just want to ask you a few questions,” they said as they pushed past me into the house.

I told them what I’d seen but they impatiently brushed off my questions. Moments later, a saucer-shaped airship hovered over my backyard. I heard a burst of noise and activity, then a brilliant light beamed down for a few seconds, winked out and the ship disappeared.  

The men turned on their heels, saying “Well, ma’am, that should take care of it. Sorry for the inconvenience. And, just so you know, none of this ever happened—remember that—none of this ever happened!”  

              

Standing on my front steps watching as they all sped away, I lamely called, “Who the hell is gonna fix my window?”                                    

(I'm an assistant coordinator of the East St Paul Speculative Fiction Writer’s Group. I wrote this for the Halloween Flash Fiction challenge. I'm also a member of a Women's Writers Group. I have published a family cookbook and now rest on my laurels and only write for fun.)

  

Cats Happen

I've had many sweet cats over the years but I have never gone out of my way to get one. They just happen.

Late last fall, a woman who lived in an apartment building down the block posted flyers all over the neighborhood for her escaped cats. She was desperate since she was soon moving to Norway and wanted them to stay with her mother.

I contacted Laura and told her they might be in the wooded lot next door. We spoke and I promised her I'd watch for them. Sure enough, there was a black shorthair cat like her Onyx hanging around. (I never saw her other cat.) She brought over a cat carrier, food and a blanket to set on my freezing-cold patio to lure her.

The cat was wary so I put the food over by the retaining wall next to the wooded lot. She would never come to eat until after dark. Slowly, I moved the dish around the corner of the building and onto my patio. The kitty would always appear just after dark so I could time putting out the food before it froze.

This worked well except the cat was so easily spooked that if she caught sight of me watching her she would run away. This went on all through the winter months and into spring. I marveled how hardy she seemed even during the coldest months.

Spring arrived and we started keeping the patio door open so my two cats could lie out in the sun. Slowly, the black cat started coming during daylight and lying a short ways from the patio flirting with my cats. I started talking to her and calling her Pinky (it was obvious by then that she was going to wind up being my cat.) She responded so well that within a few weeks she was eating her food next to my chair on the patio. She was soon coming inside and snoozing on the cat tower and reveling in being loved up.

We took her to the vet for a checkup and shots. That's when we found out we had a male cat and it most definitely was not Laura's Onyx. The name Pinky no longer seemed suitable so we changed it to Tinky--and he's one cool dude!

                                                        (Borrowed image)

A salute to the squirrels!

We've been having historic low temperatures for a long stretch along with lots of snow. There doesn't seem to be any relief in sight either. I am always amazed to see the squirrels racing around in the trees like it's a spring day when it's 20 below 0. I put out an assortment of food every day for as many as eight squirrels and the flock of sparrows who show up for a handout.

                                     (Borrowed image)
With all the snow and bitter cold, there is very little going on outdoors. I'm so grateful for the uplifting energy and spirit of those little furred and feathered creatures who brighten my day.

                      (Borrowed image. Eastern Gray Squirrel)
                      Our area is home to three kinds of squirrels.

                          (Borrowed image of Fox Squirrel)
They're more caramel-colored. After the bad storm we had last June, the Gray Squirrels disappeared and some Fox Squirrels moved in. It seems like there was a "Wooded Lot War" and the Gray Squirrels took over again.
                                                    

                        (Borrowed image of Red Squirrel)
.There are also several little hyperactive Red Squirrels that sneak over to snack on the food too. They're half as big as the other squirrels but very active and noisy.                                    

Back in the wooded lot...

I  haven't posted about the wooded lot for a while. Things were pretty quiet for a long time but now that it's turned cold, the birds and beasties are coming around. The main attraction seems to be the pan of water I set out every day. The squirrels, a large variety of birds and the four turkey boys come around to quench their thirst.

I recently started getting deer coming at night for a drink. I had a lot of family visiting over the Thanksgiving weekend and my grandson and three great-grands were delighted when three deer showed up outside my bedroom window in the early evening. There is a light on the side of the building so they were clearly visible.

                                          (Borrowed image)
So far I've only been putting out birdseed and bread or fruit scraps. With the loss of the bread thrift store where we were buying a trunk-full of stale bread for $5, I'm not sure how I'll feed them over the winter. I really hope I'll locate another resource somewhere soon.

                                        (Borrowed image)
Once we get some snow, the animals won't need the water anymore. Right now, with everything so dry there is a constant stream of birds and animals drinking at the water pan. I'm using the bottom tray from a large flower pot.

Sometimes I can hardly believe how very lucky I am to have all this wonderful wildlife right outside my window! 

Bimbo wipes out Sara Lee

Today. we went out to the "used bread" store on Silver Lake Road to stock up on our favorite English Muffin Toasting Bread. The stuff is perfect for breakfast toast, French toast, grilled cheese sandwiches and BLT's. Since we use it almost exclusively, we like to keep plenty on hand. The price at the local grocery stores is close to $4.00--the price at the outlet store is half that much.

                                                                                                                                         

                     (They're small loaves so they don't last long.)
When we got to the Sara Lee Bakery Outlet, there was a handwritten sign on the door that the tiny store will be closing on December 14th. We picked up six loaves of the wonderful stuff and asked the lady at the cash register it they were just moving to a new location. She said that a Mexican Corporation called Bimbo Baking had bought out Sara Lee and they were closing all the outlet stores. (Bimbo also bought out Hostess when they went bankrupt and the famous Twinkies were off the market for a while.)

This is the store where we buy big bags of outdated bread to feed the wildlife in the wooded lot. But more than that, it's the store where charities buy bread to make sandwiches for homeless people. It's the store where many elderly and folks on food stamps go to extend their food budget. I can well imagine that there are customers of that store who have had to rely on it for a large part of their diet.

I don't know who will step in and make up for the loss of the last remaining bakery outlets in the Twin Cities. It will be a hardship on a lot of people--and even worse, this comes at the same time that Food Stamp benefits are being reduced. It seems like the poor just can't catch a break!

Bad day for the Twin Cities

We had really bad storms move through the Twin Cities on Thursday and Friday nights. They were powerful storms with destructive lightning that caused a number of fires and straight-line winds that toppled hundreds of trees and caused wide-spread power outages. There are big sections of the area that have been without power for several days and won't get it back for several more days.

The terrible winds whipped up fierce sheets of rain that tore off lots of branches and along with them the birds and squirrels sheltered in them. The wooded lot is a shambles with broken branches everywhere. I keep looking out there to see if there are any survivors of the storm but nothing is stirring. I threw some birdseed down in there. This usually produces a several squirrels to come running. Today there is nothing.

The Wildlife Rehab Center is swamped with birds and animals rescued from downed trees. Sadly, there are many that cannot be rescued.

Meeting the Rhode Island neighbor

I had to take the car in for an oil change this morning. Coming back up the street, I saw that my neighbor lady was working on a flower bed next to the curb. Also digging around in the flower bed were two industrious chickens.

                                    (Borrowed image)
I knew there were chickens living over there on the other side of the wooded lot because I could sometimes hear them clucking. I really wanted to meet them, so I stopped the car and jumped out to get a closer look. The owner, Catherine, was happy to share her love of the little assistant gardeners. The soil she had turned over was being meticulously inspected at close range by the pair. One was a Rhode Island Red and the other name I forget, but it was a pretty golden color with black specks on the head and shoulders.

After a few minutes, the golden bird suddenly turned around and started marching back to the coop behind the house. Catherine said, "I think she's probably going to lay an egg." Sure enough, several moments later, the successful hen started cackling loudly as if announcing her accomplishment. ( She said that with her three hens she gets two or three eggs a day.)

We finally had a sunny day today. A doe crossed the lawn past our patio this afternoon and the four bachelor turkeys came by. Breeding season is over so their heads are no longer bright red and their snoods have shrunk. Most noticeably, they don't gobble anymore. I haven't seen any of the seven female turkeys for over a month. They are safely hidden away somewhere. Maybe they're all mommies by now.

Just another stupid Sunday

I'm really mad at myself today. I've been volunteering at a Specialty Clinic for Regions Hospital for five years. They had a Volunteer Recognition brunch today at noon at a very nice restaurant I could never afford. (A New Orleans Jazz Brunch, no less!) I had been looking forward to it for weeks and then spaced it out until 1:00. I've been torturing myself all day for being so stupid.

Sometimes I blame these lapses on having worked so many years in an office job that required constant multitasking. I find it hard to focus on one thing. I'm still mentally working on several things at any one time so I never make much progress. Of course, a lot of people my age call it "a senior moment" or Halfs-heimers"
or "Olds-heimers"--or even "a brain fart"! Whatever the cause, I'm terribly disappointed.

I've been having a turkey or two coming by for a handout every once in a while. They don't hang around. Jan who blogs at Revising Life informs me that a bunch of turkeys is called a gang or a rafter. I feel kinda silly for never looking it up myself.

I also got a comment about working with Wildlife Rehab from Susan who blogs at My Mother's Apron Strings. She says, "We took a Canadian Goose that lived on our pond to one in Connecticut--she had a dislocated wing (probably from a snapping turtle).  After two days, she escaped and walked twelve miles back to our pond. It took her two weeks but she wasn't about to be kept away from her new goslings!"
Isn't that an amazing story? It really warms my heart.

                                 (Borrowed image)

Here's a salute to all the wonderful men and women who rush in whenever there's a catastrophe. They are true heroes! (My granddaughter is married to a policeman and my grandson is married to an EMT.)

Keeping busy is good for you!

When folks tell you that you're just as busy after you retire as you were before, they aren't kidding! You feel like you have lots of free time so you gradually take on more things to do until suddenly you start feeling overloaded. But then, you just carry on.

Last Wednesday, the entire turkey troup suddenly showed up in the wooded lot looking for food. I raced out with the goodies and they roosted overnight in the big cottonwood tree. They left the next morning and haven't been back since. I was so very happy and relieved to see they were all together and doing fine. They really brightened up a boring winter and gave me a lot of joy--not to mention blogging topics!

I have signed up to volunteer with the local Wildlife Rehabilitation Center. They work with sick and injured birds and animals to return them to the wild. I have orientation training next week and it appears I'll be working with baby birds. Maybe I'll even wind up with young turkeys or wood ducks!  

                 (Borrowed from Google images, as always!)

Life without turkeys

I haven't seen my turkey troup for a full week. They disappeared into thin air and I miss them.

The odd thing is that they left the day after I finished reading "Illumination in the Flatwoods" by Joe Hutto. Hutto is a naturalist who spent a year living with a flock of imprinted turkeys. He hatched them and lovingly "mothered" them all day, every day until they grew up and moved on.

I first learned about Hutto's experience from a PBS Nature series documentary called "My Life as a Turkey". I totally identified with his affection for the big birds and their fascinating day-to-day experiences in the Florida Flatwoods.

I'm so thankful that I had the benefit of his knowledge when they left. He relates how abruptly the flock's behavior can suddenly change. I'm trying to hold onto the belief that they just had the urge to move on.

I don't mind not having to keep up with feeding them at dawn and dusk each day, but I worry that they might not be getting enough to eat wherever they are. I also worry that something awful happened to scare them away.

So, I keep waiting for them to come back. Whenever I go outside, I look for their tracks in the new-fallen snow. And I miss them.

(I debated whether my turkeys form a troup or a troop. I looked it up and troop refers to soldiers or Scouts and troup refers to a group of entertainers, so actually neither term applies.)

My vendetta against the wild cucumber

( I wrote this several years ago. The wooded lot has changed since then. Several large trees have fallen opening it up to more sunlight so the wild cucumber isn't as bad as it had been.)

One balmy summer morning, I noticed that there were large-leafed weeds snaking up the trees and shrubs outside my bedroom window.  On days to follow, I could see the vegetation was rapidly spreading higher and wider.

I was becoming more and more alarmed as it threatened to spoil the view and invade my private little woods.  When I began to recognize trees and shrubs along the highways completely enshrouded by this same vine, I feared it was taking over the city!

I live in a modest townhouse that is blessed with a lovely wooded lot next door.  Because my bedroom window overlooks the glorious green property, I have always taken a proprietary interest in it.  As a result, I was overcome with indignation at this weedy interloper.  I resolved to do battle with it.

The wooded lot is lower than my lot and is separated by a four-foot high retaining wall.  As I walked around and entered from the street, I found it was cool and shady under the trees.  It was also swarming with hungry mosquitoes that were delighted to see me. Amidst the shafts of light streaming down through the leafy canopy of black walnut, box elder and cottonwood trees, I could see hundreds of small yellow-green plants with palmate shaped leaves growing profusely in all directions.  The larger plants had totally engulfed other weeds and shrubs, apparently hogging the available sunlight.  The mosquitoes lost their menace as I realized the extent of the invasion.

I advanced on the “enemy” and began pulling up as many small plants as I could.  I grabbed great handfuls of the fuzzy, sticky vines and flung them at the mosquitoes.  However, I soon realized the futility of this approach.  I switched my vengeance to the larger, more insolent weeds that were climbing the trees and advancing over the retaining wall.  I was surprised at how effortlessly the pernicious vines were uprooted.  I was able to draw up long strands of it into balls that were easily tossed aside.  I was making great swaths through the most heavily infested areas, but gradually I became exhausted and gave up for the day.  My socks were full of cockleburs; I was hot, sweaty and covered with mosquito bites, but I had definitely launched a worthy attack.

Around that time, I happened to read a magazine article about a noxious weed imported from Japan called kudzu.  It was originally thought to be an excellent ground cover, but it spread so wildly that it had become a serious problem in the South.  I was certain that I was the first Minnesotan clever enough to discover kudzu in our northern climate.  I phoned the University of Minnesota Extension Office about it and learned they would have a team of horticulture experts available to the public on Saturday morning at a location in my area.  I could hardly wait!

Saturday morning, I eagerly rushed outside to pull up some representative samples of the nasty vines and tucked them into a Cub Foods plastic bag.  I drove over to the Extension Office with my prize.  There were three experts seated at long tables to field questions from gardeners, weekend lawn warriors and frustrated weed haters like myself.  I stood in line clutching my bag until it was my turn.  I stepped forward, dramatically presenting my array of droopy sprigs and told the horticulturist my suspicions about a kudzu invasion.  To her credit, she took this news with a straight face.

After looking over the samples and consulting several books, she informed me that I had Wild Cucumber (Sicyos Angulatus).  The name originates from its resemblance to domesticated cucumber plants to which it is distantly related.  Although it’s not widespread, it is a native plant found in southeastern and southwestern Minnesota and along the Wisconsin border.

I was quite disappointed to learn it was a mundane weed.  It was not as prolific as I feared either.  It is found only in woods, along streams and roads and in damp, shady places where it can grow up to 25 feet.  The UM expert told me that the most effective way of eradicating it was simply pulling it up, mowing or hoeing.

Armed with this knowledge, I went back home to fight the good fight.  I made frequent forays into the woodsy lot over the summer pulling more of the weeds and concentrating on those producing seed pods.  If the plants are uprooted before the seeds are produced, the annuals can’t seed back the following year.  By the end of the summer, I was smug in the belief that I had won the war against the enemy. 

The following summer I was visiting my daughter, a suburban soccer mom, whose hobby is landscape-gardening a large back yard.  She took me out to see her newest plantings.  As she led me toward a “cute little plant” she found near some woods, I was first shocked and then amused to find my daughter was raising a young Wild Cucumber.

Turkey tribe news

Life seems to be pretty routine in the wooded lot. I go out and feed the eleven turkeys at sunrise when they descend from the top of the cottonwood tree. They make little clucking sounds when they see me come out of the building carrying the big black bowl of food. I've been giving them a mixture of cracked corn (I just bought two more 50-pound bags) bird seed and bread crumbs twice a day. I occasionally add some oats, raisins or chopped apple.

I thought my little flock was all the turkeys in the area. Yesterday afternoon, four older tom turkeys showed up while they were gone. The toms were earnestly displaying their tails and doing a dance as they circled each other. They would stop all at once, stretch their necks out and gobble furiously and then resume the dance.It's really funny to watch. After half an hour, they all left. They worry me because I know they can be mean.

(Older tom turkeys have a long fleshy flap called a snood in addition to the bright red wattle. Young toms just have a small protrusion. Google image)

The regular flock consists of six females and four young males plus Priscilla, the small female who joined the flock late in the fall. The young males will do some displaying off and on. They flip up their tails and spread their wings and dance in a circle. They even do it on the most bitter cold mornings! The six females just roost in the branches of the fallen tree with their backs turned toward them, conspicuously ignoring them. Priscilla always roosts by herself on a fallen tree farther away. 

                                      (Image from Google)
I wonder what will happen when Spring comes and all those randy males are looking for mates. I hope they all go off into the woods to raise their families. I sometimes think that I may have gotten myself into a real pickle if they all want to come back next fall.

But then again, I think about Priscilla and maybe by next fall she will have her own little flock and won't be the outsider anymore.

Another turkey tale

Yesterday,  it was bitter cold again and the turkeys were all roosting on the branches of a felled tree near the feeding area. They conserve heat and energy that way.

I noticed one big tom suddenly become alert and crane his neck around. Seconds later, the entire bunch simultaneously popped up and jumped to the ground. They were all craning their necks and looking up. When I looked up to see what was causing this alarm, I saw a large hawk perched up at the top of the cottonwood tree. On either side of the hawk were crows loudly cussing out the intruder. This angry cawing of the crows is what tipped off the turkeys to the hawk's presence.

The hawk was no threat to the turkeys who are several times bigger than it is. Yet, they were greatly upset by having it sitting up in their tree. I gave some thought to why they were so threatened and constructed what I think is their history.

When I first spotted them last June, there were nine newly-hatched poults with the mother. She was cautious and I rarely saw them until later in the summer when there were two hens with a combined flock of twelve chicks. When the chicks were all mature, I couldn't tell the mothers from the rest anymore. By early fall, there was only a total of ten in the flock--two hens and eight young.

In late November another undersized hen suddenly appeared, apparently from another flock. This increased their total to eleven. She had an injured leg and always trailed behind the rest as they moved around the neighborhood. Happily, she recovered and walks fine but she's still smaller than the rest of them. It seems that while she's tolerated, she is not fully integrated into the flock.

When I consider all the chicks that went missing over the summer, it seems likely that all of the resident turkeys lost siblings or chicks to hawks and other predators. Their instincts tell them to beware of hawks and that fear kicks in whenever a hawk appears. It will stand them in good stead when they start their own families in the spring.

All photos from google images. If you care to read my earlier posts about the turkeys, just click on the label "Turkeys" below and they will come up in reverse order.

Turkeys in the wooded lot (again)

I have been in a winter slump lately and haven't been able to motivate myself to blog. I've posted a lot about the flock of wild turkeys that I've been feeding and observing. I have been wary of becoming too tiresome on the subject. However, it keeps coming up again.

Several weeks ago, a guy who lives four doors down from me in the same complex got mad about it. He came banging on my bedroom window in the early morning and proceeded to yell at me about turkeys (defecating) on his patio. I'm feeding them on the opposite side of the building from him in the wooded lot which belongs to the city. 

It's been terribly upsetting. If he'd approached me in a civilized manner it might not have been so bad. As it is, I feel vulnerable and threatened by his outrageous behavior. I contacted the condo association management company about it but nothing has been done so far. This grumpy 55-year-old neighbor lives alone ever since his girlfriend left him because of his bad temper. 













The eleven turkeys keep roosting up in the huge cottonwood tree in the wooded lot every wintry night. Last night it was 0 degrees Fahrenheit and very windy. They flew up to the top of the tree at sunset as usual. During the night, I could see the branches swaying in the wind as they rode it out. I feel so bad for them in this nasty weather that it would be terribly cruel to stop feeding them. 

I have not had a problem with turkeys using my patio as a toilet, but maybe it's a courtesy for all the tasty cracked corn and bread crumbs!                          (All photos from Google images)

Of Twinkies and hungry turkeys

Recently the Hostess Baking Company went bankrupt and closed. It made the national news mostly because they made the iconic Twinkies. I never bought any Hostess products except for an occasional Snowball so I didn't really give a care until today. But today, it suddenly hit home.

We make a trip over to Minneapolis every couple of weeks to shop at the Master Bakery "used bread" store. They sell bread that is near the "sell-by" date at half the price. We always stock up on English Muffin Toasting Bread. It's the very best for breakfast toast and also grilled cheese sandwiches, BLT's or French toast. It's basically the only bread we eat.

Ever since I began feeding the flock of turkeys this summer, we had been buying expired bread that they sell for animal feed. We could literally  buy a car trunk full of bread and buns for five dollars. The turkeys happily gobbled it up, along with the squirrels, birds and assorted other animals. It was a feast by the wooded lot twice a day. Little did I know that when they stopped making Twinkies and other Hostess products, it would trickle down to create a problem for my menagerie.

Today, when we asked to buy a cart of stale bread, the gal said they didn't have any. She told us that when Hostess Bakeries closed down, people who had been getting bread at the local Hostess thrift store started coming over to the Master Bread thrift store. She said a man came in one morning who was with an organization that provided food for homeless people. He bought 50 loaves of bread. She said they are clearing out their shelves every day now so there's no leftovers to sell for animals.

It brings home the interconnectedness of everything that happens--and I will miss those yummy Snowballs.

Hostess marshmallow-covered, cream-filled Snowball. They come in lavender for Easter, green for St Patrick's day and orange for Halloween plus white for every-day.

Hidden Valley

The Hidden Valley turkey troop has acquired an 11th member. In the last several days, a little female has been tagging along with the ten others as they stroll around the neighborhood. She must have been from a later hatch, perhaps from another brood as she's noticeably smaller than the others. She also walks with a limp so she's always the last one to reach the food. There's always plenty so she eats well.

 

I don't know if I've mentioned before that my neighborhood is called Hidden Valley. The "valley" was created when a gravel pit was excavated on the north side of a big hill in the early twentieth century. It is about eight blocks long and bounded by a large cemetery on one end and a large greenhouse/nursery on the other. All the streets running south off the main road end in a cul de sac or a turn at the base of the steep, forested slope. The cliff rises 100 feet just a short way from my patio.   

Google image of Hidden Valley, click to enlarge--the small X marks my building. (The tiny car in the driveway in my old car that I crashed two years ago.) Directly north is the wooded lot that my bedroom window overlooks. The trees across the bottom of the image are on the slope. At the top of the slope is a fence surrounding the cemetery. There is a large woodsy area on the east side behind the apartment buildings, as well.

Tonight we will be watching Homeland and Dexter on TV. They are both gripping series we never miss. Last week ended the (old) British series William and Mary and Call the Midwife which we will miss. I'm hoping there will be a new season of Doc Martin coming soon! Martin Clunes is a really likeable guy.

If you feed them, they will come!

I often write about the wooded lot next door and the animal life there. I began putting out pans of water this summer during the drought and it attracted so many birds and animals that I've kept it up.

We also have been putting food out and the crowd of wildlife coming to the "dinner table" on the retaining wall by the wooded lot keeps growing. In addition to the dozen or so squirrels, an assortment of birds and the wild turkeys, there are three opossums, several raccoons and a two foxes. There are an occasional couple of freeloading cats, two cottontail rabbits and four or five deer. Someone down the block dumped their Halloween pumpkins in the wooded lot and the deer come to munch on them. The pumpkin seeds are gobbled up by the squirrels. 

My twelve wild turkeys have shrunk to ten. I suspect that someone poached the missing two--although the foxes may have gotten them. With Thanksgiving next Thursday and roast turkey being the traditional meal, I worry about the rest of them. It's illegal to hunt in the city but someone with a crossbow could sneak up on them. They stroll around the neighborhood all day and they're so used to being around people that it wouldn't be hard.

 

The traditional Thanksgiving Day dinner that I cook every year consists of: roast turkey with herb dressing, mashed potatoes and gravy, cranberry sauce, green bean casserole, sweet potato/apple casserole, relish tray with pickles, olives and fresh veggies and dinner rolls. For those who don't eat meat, I also serve salmon (we don't have any vegans). I also make pumpkin pie and another pie. It's a lot of work, but it is sooo good!  

Thanksgiving 2010 (Note dog intently watching platter of turkey!)