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On a perfect spring day I drove to the Virginia Eastern Shore to visit a sanctuary dedicated to the rescue and care of poultry. After I arrived, Karen, the sanctuary's founder, and I spoke at length, sitting in various spots around the yard. While most of the residents went about their business, there were a few birds almost constantly in my peripheral vision. There was Frankincense, the peacock, who was constantly flaring his tail for attention; the cain and glorious rooster Rhubarb; Aubrey, a young male turkey who had a bit of spring fever; and Amelia, a quiet white turkey, who hovered nearby watching. She was more curious about what I was doing and left all the preening and posturing to the males in the yard.
Aubrey and Amelia came to live at the sanctuary when they were about five months old. Maryland and Virginia's Eastern Shore are to poultry farming that Midwest feedlots are to cattle.; Aubrey and Amelia are descended from the birds specifically bred for consumption.
After we finished talking, Karen left me to get to know the birds and photograph them. Amelia would creep closer and closer too me and get very still when I turned to pay her attention. Everywhere I went in the yard, she was never far behind. She reminded me of the dogs I share my life with - they always have to be wherever I am.
Amelia spends most of her time with the hens and roosters, but she is also rather independent. She enjoys human companionship and seeks out physical affection from visitors and volunteers. She loves spaghetti, as do most of the birds. She and the chickens often dust bathe together and then find some sunshine in which to relax.
She continued to watch me, shadowing my moves in the yard. The inherent curiosity of these gentle birds is what almost wiped them out when Europeans arrived in North America. They would inquisitively walk up to people and were shot in droves. Their guilelessness was derided and to this day "turkey" is used as an insult.
Eventually I had no choice but to simply give Amelia a hug, which she seemed to enjoy. I held the camera out and took a photo of the two of us together. I wanted to capture her sweetness and desire to be cuddled.
Since that day, I've met more birds, some with huge personalities, but in thinking about them all, Amelia's sweetness keeps tugging at me. Her simple desire to be hugged is what punches me in the gut when I walk pass the deli section at the grocery store.
-Davida Gypsy Breier
Aubrey and Amelia came to live at the sanctuary when they were about five months old. Maryland and Virginia's Eastern Shore are to poultry farming that Midwest feedlots are to cattle.; Aubrey and Amelia are descended from the birds specifically bred for consumption.
After we finished talking, Karen left me to get to know the birds and photograph them. Amelia would creep closer and closer too me and get very still when I turned to pay her attention. Everywhere I went in the yard, she was never far behind. She reminded me of the dogs I share my life with - they always have to be wherever I am.
Amelia spends most of her time with the hens and roosters, but she is also rather independent. She enjoys human companionship and seeks out physical affection from visitors and volunteers. She loves spaghetti, as do most of the birds. She and the chickens often dust bathe together and then find some sunshine in which to relax.
She continued to watch me, shadowing my moves in the yard. The inherent curiosity of these gentle birds is what almost wiped them out when Europeans arrived in North America. They would inquisitively walk up to people and were shot in droves. Their guilelessness was derided and to this day "turkey" is used as an insult.
Eventually I had no choice but to simply give Amelia a hug, which she seemed to enjoy. I held the camera out and took a photo of the two of us together. I wanted to capture her sweetness and desire to be cuddled.
Since that day, I've met more birds, some with huge personalities, but in thinking about them all, Amelia's sweetness keeps tugging at me. Her simple desire to be hugged is what punches me in the gut when I walk pass the deli section at the grocery store.
-Davida Gypsy Breier
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