My Grandfather’s Turkeys

Recently in our blogging group meeting we were given the task to write a blog post using someone else’s post as our inspiration in a way.  We were supposed to keep our voice and our theme, but more in the writing style of the blog post we received.

If you don’t already know, I began this blog in a wonderful group of other new bloggers with our local library.  The goal of the group is that after a year of blogging we will be ready to publish a book related to our blog.  You can read more about why I started my blog in my first post.

Anyway, back to our writing exercise; I received a blog from Story_Trails, which is a family history blog.  This post was a letter to the author’s granddaughter about a Cameo necklace that was passed onto her on her 16th birthday.  The exercise turned out to be quite fun and I enjoyed the memories it brought up for me as I wrote so I decided to share it here:

In some ways farming must run in the family.

My mother’s family lived in the city in California when she was growing up, but my grandfather’s heart was a little farther away.  My mother tells stories of how almost weekend he would load up the whole family, including their lab, into the camper and head out to the desert.  My mom and her sister would collect dried cow patties for the fire.  My grandfather would collect rattlesnake rattles and skins.

My Grandfather, Papa Billy

When we picked up our chicks from the hatchery we also picked up some turkeys for a friend.  While talking about the turkeys with my mom she reminded me about my grandfather raising turkeys when he was younger.  I mentioned turkeys’ typical lack of good sense and their knack for dying.  My mom shared how my grandfather would tell how when it would rain the turkeys would look up at the sky.  If he didn’t bring them in the barn they would drown themselves on the falling rain.

I often think of my mom’s family only as their time living in the city, but there was so much more than that. From my grandfather’s senseless turkeys to my quirky chickens, farming must run in our blood. 

My dear children, I sincerely hope a love of land, animals, and farming will continue in you.