When I touch a turkey's head, I think this is what the brain must feel like. They wear it outside their head. When I stroke their wattle, that fleshy bit on their neck, I think this is what the intestine must feel like (and having held an animal's intestine, it does). Turkeys wear what's in, out. Some find it unattractive, but I find everything about turkeys beautiful. Their soft plumage, proud tail feathers waving to and fro. I love when they vibrate their feathers and fill their chest with air to look bigger. When a turkey is happy, he will let you know by changing the color on his head and neck, a little chameleon-emotion-gauge. (They'll let you know when they're mad too).
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