Turkey time

No, it's Easter, not Thanksgiving you say.   Not if you are a turkey in the North Country.  After a long, cold and cruel winter, the gobblers are mating like Easter bunnies.  Every morning when I walk out the door I am treated to the local Toms' mating calls.  There will be plenty of poults strutting their stuff come June this year.  At least that is what the resident coyotes are hoping.   Meanwhile, the ground continues to thaw and with sunny skies predicted for at least part of the weekend, one of the local golf courses has sent out its siren call to the golf starved multitudes up here.  Having seen the fairways from the road and the half dead greens, I think I'll pass on that invitation.  If I want to slog through mud, I can play in the garden.  It's less frustrating.