Aves

The chickens aren’t too bad. I go to the edge of the jungle to brush my teeth and they follow me, form a circle around me, and crane their necks. Then when I spit they peck at the foamy toothpaste puddles, expectant. Chickens are always hopeful.

The turkeys, however, make me nervous. I’m actually quite afraid of them. There is a large herd of turkeys that belongs to the caretaker of Km 38 and sometimes they all run together down the dirt lane, squawking and fluffing up their feathers. The sight of turkeys running is at once scary and hilarious.

Often the turkeys stand in their devious herd right outside of the house. You have to walk through them to take scraps to the compost pile. I usually skip the walking part and throw the scraps as hard as I can from the porch.

The roosters in Peru are confused. Their perky crowing wakes us up at 11:00 at night, followed by repeat performances at 2:00 am, 4:00 am, 5:00 am, and anywhere in between. Good thing I brought my ear plugs. Too bad I can’t find them.