Boys will be boys. It doesn’t matter if its 1950 or 2010.
Boys will be boys. Throughout history boys were always the inquisitive ones. This holds true even today.
Boys will investigate things, explore strange areas and test the limits of people and animals alike.
In the late 1940’s and early 1950’s boys in rural Alberta were like any other boys throughout history and my Father and his cousins were no different. Without televisions, computers and gamers, they made their own fun – a lost art in this day and age.
Sunday’s for my Father’s family was typically a day to worship at the small, rural community church. After the church service they would often go to cousin Lawrence’s house for breakfast and visiting.
Lawrence and his family lived on a farm located in a river valley. It was a beautiful spot with a sizable river and steep river banks. Like any other family of the time, they were pretty much self sufficient. They raised a garden, had milk cows, chickens and … turkeys.
My Father and his cousins – being boys as only boys can be – decided to teach Lawerence’s fifteen pound turkeys to fly.
If you have ever seen a domestic turkey up close you would understand how big a task this was. Domestic turkeys are not meant to fly. They have large, meaty breasts and huge legs. While their wings can be powerful, because they don’t fly their wings lack the necessary muscle to keep their huge bodies in the air.
Image via Wikipedia
However, turkeys can be trained – like any athelet – to build muscle and ultimately, fly.
Once boys like my Father and his cousins set their minds to a task it was hard to stop them. So … whenever they got together at Lawrence’s house and the adults settled inside to visit the boys would get busy with their turkey training.
The boys would catch as many turkeys as they could pack and haul them to the top of the river bank hill. Now this hill was steep and high which led to the turkey training motto – fly or die.
From the steepest point on the hill each turkey would be tossed into the air. These big birds would make a valiant attempt to fly but ultimately gravity would win and they would end up bouncing and rolling down the hill.
The boys would chase them down the hill, catch them and do it again. My Dad said it took about three weeks before they had those old turkey flying really well.
By the time the turkey’s were ready to butcher they had flying down to a fine art. They even took to roosting in the trees and needless to say – were impossible to catch. In the end Lawrence finally had to hunt down his domestic turkeys with the 22 calibre rifle.
I’m not sure if the adults new for sure that the boys had taught the turkeys to fly but Dad said their favorite expression was … ‘Those darn boys!’
Here are links to my other My Crazy Family stories:
Published in: Family