EGGED-ON

Taupo Times, Volume I, Issue 8, 6 March 1952, Page 2

EGGED-ON

THE TRIALS OF TRILBY TURKEY "I've just picked up an amazing bargain at a sale!" announced John one day shortly after Christmas. "Come and see!" I followed him out to the chicken run where I made the acquaintance of Trilby Turkey and her family. She was a gaunt, scraggy, miserable looking bird and appeared rather bewildered by her large brood of chicks. : The poor soul had squashed, four of her family in her cramped pen at the auction rooms, but the remaining eight appeared quite lively. "What on earth are you going to do with them?" I enquired, blankly. "Fatten them up for next Christmas!" replied John. "They should fetch quite a good price." Trilby regarded us reproachfully and I slunk out of the run feeling an utter cad. We decided to let the turkeys run wild in the paddocks but they had other ideas: The garden seemed far more enticing, and strangely enough they did no damage, in fact, they were quite helpful, keeping down pests and grubs. Unfortunately, six of Trilbys flock failed to survive but the remaining six chicks grew rapidly. Even Trilby herself, once she had settled down, lost her scraggy appearance and became more matronly. She grew quite tame and followed us about the garden wheedling titbits from us whenever possible. Quite often she walked up the back steps on to the verandah and once we found her in the kitchen with her chicks. But alas, tragedy befell the little family. One by one they became ill and died quite suddenly, with the exception of Trilby and one chick , whom we christened Timothy. We were at a loss to account for their death, though possibly they had been eating grubs, off the tomato plants after they had been sprayed. Poor Trilby was completely stricken with grief for a few days. However, when at last she managed to pull herself together, she concentrated all her motherly devotion on her remaining son Timothy. She followed him everywhere and if he escaped from her sight for a minute she would call him frantically, her face becoming scarlet with agitation. One morning we were awakened by the most blood curdling cries. We

dashed out in the garden, where, in the cold grey light of dawn an amazing spectacle met our eyes. Timothy, screeching with terror, was being chased all round the garden by his mother, who appeared to have gone berserk. Presently to our relief Timothy disappeared from sight and Trilby vanished underneath the flowering currant bush. Peace reigned once more! Very thankfully we returned to bed, but not to sleep for within a few minutes, the episode was repeated. We were at a complete loss to account for Trilby's extraordinary behaviour unless it was that the shock of her recent bereavement had affected her brain. Later in the day, however, we were enlightened. Neither Trilby nor Timothy appeared for their breakfast which was most unusual. By midday we were quite worried as there was still no sign of them, so we decided to search for the truants. Eventually we discovered them sitting under the flowering currant bush. Trilby had made a nest and was busy laying an egg while Timothy sat opposite her, patiently waiting until the job was finished. The mystery of Trilby's strange behaviour was revealed to me at last. She had apparently had and urge to lay an egg so naturally she wished to be left in salitude. Each time she sneaked off to the currant bush Timothy followed her, which must have been most embarrassing, to say the least of it. At last desperate, she turned on her son in fury. No wonder he was terrified and bewildered at his mothers extraordinary behaviour. After several unsuccessful efforts to banish Timothy she had apparently given up the struggle and settled down to lay her egg under the curious gaze of her off spring. Every morning Timothy accompanied his parent to the currant bush where he sat down and waited patiently until the egg was laid, then and not until then, they would both appear for their breakfast, Trilby's eggs were a welcome addition to the larder and proved excellent for cakes and puddings. Then one day a dreadful thing happened. Timothy disappeared! Poor Trilby was most perturbed, in fact we all were. We searched high and low, inquired from neighbours, but alas there was no sign of him. He had vanished completely. A fortnight passed and we had given up hope when one afternoon John walked into the house. "I've found your turkey!" He in-

formed me. '"Where? " I gasped. "Is he alive?' I steeled myself to the sight of a limp feathered body lying somewhere on the farm. . "O yes! He's alive alright," John assured me. "Come and see! " I followed him to the bottom of one of our own paddocks and there we found Timothy, with a smug expression on his countenance sitting on a dozen eggs! We re-christened him Timothiora. It was the least we could do. Now Trilby had received several shocks in her life but this was more than she could bear. The idea of possibly becoming a grandmother did not, I regret to state, fill her with pleasurable anticipation, the fact that her own child had succeeded in hiding twelve eggs from prying busy bodies where as she herself had failed, was a bitter blow to Trilby. The change in her came quite gradually at first. It was not until she started laying her eggs on the roof of the barn that we realized poor Trilby's mind had become slightly deranged. Day after day she would fly up on to the top ridge of the barn roof, lay her egg then, with a foolish smirk on her face watch it roll over and over down the roof until it landed in the gutter. We managed to retrieve one unbroken egg, I believe. The year drew on to a close. Trilby's and Timothy's last hours were approaching. One sad day they departed in a box for the auction mart. Perhaps it is unecessary ta add that I derived little pleasure from the fact that they fetched a good price at the sale. A. A.