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She senses us from a distance, squats into the grassy field, but a bird the size of a turkey hen can hardly disappear in shorn grass. We stop, watch quietly. She stands tall again. Within seconds a fluffy ball of baby turkey appears behind her. And then another, and another, until seven baby turkeys follow mom across shorn field, across gravel road, into the woods. We stay a careful distance away, but still alarm her.  Back she comes, across the road, into the field, dragging her wings and clucking to attract our attention. She lures us away from her babies and we obligingly follow, until she’s far from her brood. Now we are alarmed. Her chicks are unprotected, peeping frantically for their mother. We turn back their way; the hen crosses back into the woods and hurries ahead to her young family. She’s a good mama, and all is well. ~K