Here’s Big Tom in his glory days at La Belle Farm when he was young and frisky, and the proud father of many jakes and jennies (juvenile turkeys).
Almost ten years ago, Farmer Bill announced that he was going to breed Narragansett turkeys here on the farm and so he found Big Tom along with two hens.
At first, I was a little intimated by the turkeys, especially when Big Tom strutted in my direction, fully displaying his feathers, which made him enormous. But, I soon realized that Big Tom is similar to a dog. He likes to follow you around. He greets anyone walking by the farm with a loud gobble-gobble-gobble. And, he loves it when anyone sings to him. (Irish ballads being his favorite). And he’s a gentleman. In fact, when I collect raspberries from the garden, he will not accept any until the hens have had their fill.
We had hopes that Big Tom would continue his line of turkeys. He was certainly frisky with Mrs. Tom during the summer. And on top of this, Mrs. Tom did lay a clutch of eggs and got broody. But sadly--no chicks hatched. It seems that Big Tom is no longer fertile.
He is ten years old. This translates to something like ninety in human years.
Farmer Bill says that once Big Tom flies the coop (I couldn't find a better euphemism for a turkey dying) we will not get a replacement for him, and without a Tom, there will be no more turkeys.
I am getting myself ready for this inevitable loss--not that we can ever be ready. And yet, with the passing of my mother in 1997 and most recently, the loss of Papa Callan, I have been getting lots of practice in handling loss.
But isn't this what life is all about? One big lesson in handling loss.
Creative Friends--your assignment is to consider the times in your life when you've lost a person, place or thing. How did you handle the grief, the letting go? Translate this experience into a song, a story, a painting, or a mysterious dance where you fluff out your feathers and strut about. Revel in your very own, unique beauty and power.
Love,
Jamie
