Had a rooster that used to do that to my daughter when she was about the same age as the child in your video. It would jump on her back, flop her and claw the heck out of her. One day she came in the house crying and upset as it had flopped her again.
I gave her a big red Fat Albert wiffle ball bat and we went back out together. The rooster came at her and she reluctantly swung at it. Bam, feathers went flying and the bird backed up and shook it’s head and returned for the second time. Again the feathers flew. By now she was comfortable and laughing as she hit a home run sending the rooster flying. Soon she was chasing it, swinging the bat and uncontrollably laughing. After that he never bothered her again and stayed clear every time she walked through the run area.
I often look back at that as the turning point in my daughter’s self confidence in all aspects of life. She became the catcher on the high school baseball team, lived in Manhattan(Upper East Side) by herself for a few years, and is one heck of a leader in a multinational corporation. Amazing how one event as a child can change the temperament of a person for life.
That video makes me not feel so sorry for turkeys!
I hope that tom was destined for the oven.
When my older brother and I were young, 13 and 9 respectively, we were at my uncle John's farm in Ohio. It was Summer time and we were exploring the farm. Uncle John had told us that there were turkeys about the farm someplace. So, not knowing any better, we started in the big barn. Not a turkey in sight. Save for one. It was a small one. No bigger than a young chicken hen. We decided to catch it. We were unsuccessful as that little tom was very, very fast.
Nevertheless, we chased it. Around the inside of the barn, out the barn, around the outside of the barn and into the wooded are out back. The little bastid ran down a path leading into the woods that went for about 30 yards and ended in a cul-de-sac.
We immediately lost sight of the little turkey because we standing before a huge group of turkeys all looking at me and my brother. They figured out what to do with us in an instant and came right at us.
I can tell you without fear of contradiction that the little turkey we chased was only the second fastest thing on two feet that day. My brother and I lit out of that wooded area, faces white as ghosts, screaming and headed for the main house at what I believe was close to the speed of sound. It had to be for when we reached the main house, our screams of terror finally caught up with us.
Turkeys are fast and they are nasty.