How do I write a tribute to an animal like Rupert? How do I do justice to such an incredible soul who touched so many people’s lives? As I write through my heartache I’m afraid I’ll miss something important about him.
It’s been a week since Rupert was killed by coyotes at a neighbors property. And it’s been a week that I’ve overslept every day. Rupert was the one who woke me each morning demanding his breakfast so he could start his day. On rainy days he let me sleep longer. Rain or shine he would greet me at the back door and escort me to receive his breakfast.
Each day since his death it’s been sunny and I don’t know how the sun can shine when in my heart it’s stormy and grey. A part of me feels silly for grieving over a turkey but Rupert wasn’t your average turkey, or even your average animal.
I raised him from a poult. He was a no-nonsense boy. He was the sheriff here and had zero tolerance for the other animal’s shenanigans. He broke up skirmishes between other animals. He was Mr. Hollywood, somehow sensing when a camera was around and inserting himself in front of it. He would come running when he heard kids voices.
He was gentle and tolerant of kids and their hugs, in fact, he seemed to love kids…and women. One of my favorite memories is looking out my kitchen window to see Rupert and five of my other turkeys running after the neighbor’s little boy on his motorized big wheel. I wish I had a video of these six goofy turkeys playing with the child with Rupert leading the way. Rupert loved that boy and visited him every day after school.
When Rupert’s mate died shortly after hatching their babies he immediately stepped up to raise them. He taught me males have an important role in farm family life. He was an amazing father and guardian to smaller animals.
Rupert gave me the gift of feeling safe and protected. He worked together with Luca keeping the other animals from harm. He was the first to alert Luca to predators both from the land and sky. If he gobbled at night I knew there was either a thunderstorm or a predator nearby. Fortunately, it was usually a thunderstorm.
The animals have been quiet since his passing. My last two remaining turkeys have stayed mostly close to home.
I wasn’t able to bear going to get his remains so my wonderful neighbors collected what was left of him. All there is of my 45 pound boy is a small bag of feathers. When the kids dropped it off to me I couldn’t keep my composure in front of them. I thanked them, hugged them then walked inside and shut the door while tightly hugging and sobbing into the lightweight bag of Rupert’s remains. There’s a void here now.
I spend a lot of time on my porch and he would join me daily. I often wondered if anyone else in the world had a porch turkey. I miss how the colors of his head reflected his emotions.
A couple days ago I received the most precious gift. It’s a portrait of Rupert from a friend and a local artist. It means the world to me. Another friend commented to me that she can’t imagine another animal in the world who would love having a portrait of himself. It’s the first time I smiled in days, it’s so true. Rupert would love knowing he’s been immortalized in a painting.
I had him in my life four fabulous years and life here will never be the same. I hope where he is there are lots of kids and cameras and he knows how much he was loved.