An Origin Story

Hello dear readers! Welcome back!

Howdy to the new folks, we are glad to have you here! Nekked sheep are happy to let you skittchie their newly shorn backs. And beg for peanuts!

An update on Miss Runag from last week. She is 100% better! Her cuts have healed up beautifully, and it appears that she also had an upper respiratory infection, which did result in some green snotty goobers along with a bit of a cough. She is back out with everyone and quite happy to be so!

I was asked by one of our shearing helpers where the name from my farm came from. I gave the condensed version at the time, and was told to “write it down!!!”

So here goes!

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away……..

A little girl, Jes, and a little boy, Mike, went with their mom to the local feed store for a resupply of chicken feed. They loaded up in the old blue minivan, sang songs playing on the radio and all three were enjoying the sunny spring day.

As they entered the store, a magical peeping noise greeted them. Several feed tubs, with heat lamps over them were making the soft noise. Peep peep peep they went. In the bottom of the tubs were babies. Little chickens and turkeys. Scurrying around doing their baby chicken and turkey things. Pecking at the food bowls, sipping water, taking a lazy nap under the heat.

And looking so adorable.

Jes and Mike were excited to see all the babies. Ooo-ing and aah-ing over the antics going on before them. They were pointing out which ones they thought were the cutest babies. Or which one was trying to push the others around.

Then the pleading started.

“Please mom, can we get some babies! They are so cute and they need a new home”

“Please mom, they are so lonely and need a house like ours to live at”

“Please mom, I promise to take care of them”

“Kids, we already have as many chickens as we need and can afford to take care of.”

“PLEASE!!!”

“Ok ok, how about this. You can each pick one turkey baby. We don’t have any of those and they will be a good addition to the flock”

Over to the tub of turkey’s they went. It was decided that the kind to choose were going to be the Bourbon Red’s. The picture of the adults sold them on this kind. Dark red feathers, good sized sturdy looking birds, and decent egg laying ability were all the selling points.

Jes reached in and found her special baby, followed closely by Mike. Into a small box they went and after the rest of our shopping, onward to home.

Now these little babies were far too small to put outside with the chickens. Not to mention there was no option in the coop to put up a heat lamp for them. Into the house they had to go for a while.

They set up a dog kennel in the living room with shavings, a bowl for water and another for baby chicken food. A heat lamp was aimed thru the door for them. And they settled in quite well.

It was decided that their names were to be Mr and Mrs Burble aka the Burbles.

Now, Jes and Mike, being Jes and Mike, had to make sure they played with those babies every day. The babies cuddled, took naps on laps, and at times became living additions to lego forts and doll houses. They took to following the kids around the house, much as they would follow their natural mothers.

And the pooped everywhere they went, much to mothers’ chagrin.

Quickly, they outgrew their dog kennel house and had to begin living in the coop with the rest of the flock. They were not amused.

In their mind, they were denizens of the house.

One day, while mom was making lunch, there came a tap tap tapping on the back door. They were not expecting company, and a quick look out the window showed that nobody was standing there.

Mom opened the door and to her surprise the Burbles were standing there expecting to be let in. They had figured out how to fly over the top of the coop fence, and were the ones knocking on the door!

In they came and they then had the kids share their lunch with them. They were even so cheeky as to snatch bits of food right off the plate. They were very spoiled babies.

After lunch came the obligatory nap on the couch. All four were settled in with an episode of Blues Clues for the duration.

This pattern continued and the Burbles spent most of the day outside, but also a good chunk of the day following the kids around, either inside or out.

Mike would build hot wheels towns in the shade of the trees, and Mrs Burble would come over, much like Godzilla to Tokyo, and wipe them out with a turkey dust bath.

If Mr Burble was being particularly amorous, Mrs Burble would hide in the trees to get away from him. By now Mr Burble was so large, he had a tough time getting his butt off the ground. It became daily ritual to let them out of the coop via the door.

Jes would often sit cross legged on the deck and let Mr Burble crawl into her lap and take a nap.

Mom would pack Mrs Burble around under her arm like a football when it came time to put them in for the night, or she would ride on Mikes arm acting like a proud hunting hawk in her pose.

This is the only surviving picture of Mr Burble.

The family enjoyed many turkey egg omelets. They were delicious!

The family was doing a great job of selling eggs, making enough that the chicken flock was self-supporting, with a bit left over. The local purchasers were asking what the name of our farm was, so they could remember where to get them from in the future.

A name. What name should they call the farm? Many were tossed around, mostly in jest. But nothing sounded quite right for the place.

Mom, Jes and Mike went outside and were looking around the farm, naming things as they went. Dirt, tree, rock, lilacs, chicken, scorpion, snake, fat turkey.

Mr Burble was that fat turkey.

That was it. Fat Turkey Farm. Bingo!!!

And that name has stuck thru two major moves. Arizona to Colorado. Colorado to Wyoming.

Sadly, the Burbles were not able to move with the family to Colorado. Instead, they went and lived out their lives on the neighboring farm of a friend. By now, they have long since crossed the rainbow bridge.

The memories have long lasted of those sweet birds. Jes and Mike still talk about them to this day. And mom misses them talking to her when she was working outside or having to share her plate of dinner with them.

Blessed Be!

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I am grateful for your financial support to help keep the farm going. Thank you for your blessing!