Duck, duck turkey

There's a wild turkey in our backyard. I'm blogging from Russellville, by the way. What is a wild turkey doing in our backyard? While we do have empty fields beside and behind our house, we ARE kind of in the middle of town. Mom called us all out on the back porch to listen, and after the first few gobbles (okay... Not gobbles.. The other sound turkeys make...) my dad declared that it must be someone with a turkey call camped out in our back yard or in the ditch or something. So my mom yells into the darkness "you got me! I was excited we had a turkey... You fooled me! You can stop now! You fooled an old southern girl!"

So then we were slightly creeped out that someone was sitting in our backyard turkey-calling us.

So dad camped out on the porch and listened. For about an hour. And the turkey kept calling.. Never made a mistake.. He's actually still calling as we speak. I suuuuuuuuuure hope that's a real turkey out there. But really? A turkey? In our backyard? I hope he can find his way home.