jmgoyder

After Bubble’s death, we purchased four more turkey chicks and named them all Bubble. Oh, the funny looking one in the middle isn’t a turkey – it’s Tapper the duckling whose brothers and sisters had all been sold, so he was all alone and I couldn’t resist.

Needless to say, we now have strict rules of segregation and Doc and Blaze – pictured below with Blaze looking particularly innocent – are not allowed anywhere near the birds unless supervised. We’ve found the most wonderful dog trainer who is helping us to help the dogs to love the birds.

As some would put it, pigs might fly, but I live in hope!

I have never had to kill anything bigger than a blowfly before, so putting Bubble out of her misery was both terrible and terrifying.

This is what happened: I had acquired a single turkey chick because I wanted to see what it would be like to raise one from scratch and, from Day 1, we all fell in love with Bubble. This picture is of Husband and Bubble.

I would nestle her into my jacket, under my left armpit usually, and she would make little chirpy sounds, snooze for awhile, then peck at me for a pat. It was my first ever experience of having an infant bird, so I was fascinated and delighted.

After just a few days, Bubble became so tame that she would fly boldly, though clumsily, out of the box we had set up for her in front of the stove, and across the floor of the kitchen towards me.

It was on Day 6 of Bubble’s life with us that I stupidly let Blaze into the house while I was getting dogfood. In his usual hyperactive way, he came cycloning into the kitchen, then saw Bubble perched on the edge of her box ready to fly down to the floor. There was a split-second of silence in which both animals froze and then, before I could stop it happening, Blaze attacked.

I grabbed him back, but it was too late because he had bitten Bubble in the chest area. I gently held her for awhile but there was a lot of blood and her usual chirpy sounds began to fade. She kept trying cuddle up to me but she was so weak and I didn’t know what to do to help her and that’s when I took her to the local vet. The vet wasn’t there, but her two assistants told me there wasn’t much hope.

So I brought Bubble home again, holding her close to my wrenched heart, knowing what I had to do. The rock was halfway up the driveway so I stopped the car, got out with Bubble, kissed her goodbye, placed her gently on the ground, then used the rock. It only took one blow but I wanted to be sure, so I did it a couple more times.

It’s hard to say any more about this because regret is a pretty useless emotion when it’s too late….