Our So-Called Front Yard

This was the view through the front door this weekend.  The ducks have inexplicably taken to lolling around the front step for the greater part of the day.  The two African geese (now named Pyramus and Thisbe) no longer need to be kenneled up and are free to roam about the place.  They go down to the pond (which is where they sleep), but still seem more comfortable hanging out up here by the house.

And then there are the "wild" turkeys.  There are several large bands of them living around us in the dry grass and brush -- hens and their almost-adult broods.  They mince in to stuff themselves at the grain pan we daily fill with cracked corn.  If we come outside when they're there, they'll quickly melt away into the undergrowth -- but not with any sort of panic or great fear.  The ducks, geese and chickens accept them as part of the Frogpond fowl.

The reality is that we don't actually have a front yard:  instead, our door opens up to an expansive bird buffet, with our satisfied diners contentedly relaxing, strolling about (this aids the digestion), and quacking, gobbling and honking amongst themselves.

And that {long-suffering sigh} is as it should be.  It's the Frogpond way.