Development of the Turgoatkey

An Origin Story No One Asked For

So, this morning started like most mornings: hot chocolate in hand, animals where they belong, peace and tranquility... Ha! Just kidding. The goat was in the turkey pen again.

Yep. Our young Boer buck—who I now suspect might be part mountain goat, part parkour athlete, and possibly part raccoon—was inside the turkey tractor. Just standing there casually, like he belonged, looking smug, trying to blend in.

Now, before you call Animal Control or the Men in Black, let me explain.

We don’t entirely know how he got in there, but I’ve come to understand this little guy is a four-legged Houdini with horns and a food obsession. Then again, we didn’t know how he kept ending up in the doe pasture either—until one day, we caught him climbing the fence like a jailhouse escapee, wedging his head between the feeder crib and the fence post to gain leverage. He basically used physics and stubbornness to launch himself over. We added an electric fence. Problem solved. At least that one.

Fast forward to yesterday: I’m doing my headcount and—surprise! No goat in the buck pasture. I do a little searching and there he is, inside the turkey tractor.

Now, let me paint you a picture. The turkey tractor is an 8' x 12' pen with an A-frame tarp roof. It moves daily so the turkeys always have fresh ground to destroy with their unapologetic digestive systems. No cleaning—just drag the whole thing 12 feet and let the cycle of poop and pecking continue.

And somehow, this goat figured out how to breach Fort Turkey.

Obviously, he was after the grain. Because nothing motivates a goat like a snack that doesn’t belong to him.

Getting him out, however, was like extracting a cat from under a couch using salad tongs. The bottom sides of the pen are covered in chicken wire, the tarp is stapled on tighter than Aunt Marge’s wig in a windstorm, and the A-frame roof is made from floppy PVC pipe. It took two grown adults, several questionable decisions, and some mild cussing to hoist him over the wire and out a gap we made by peeling back the tarp like we were unwrapping a very confused birthday present.

Which brings me to my next brilliant idea:
The Turgoatkey.

Yes, you heard me. A new, genetically engineered species—half turkey, half goat, all attitude. A trailblazing, bipartisan barnyard diplomat who’s equally at home in the goat pen and the turkey tractor. Think of the collaboration! The synergy! The weird noises it would make!

I’m not saying it would revolutionize farming, but I am saying it might be the answer to problems we haven’t invented yet.

Now, I haven’t worked out the details like… say… how to create it… but I’ve got enthusiasm, a Sharpie, and a doodle of what it might look like. That’s basically science.

So if you'd like to be on the official waiting list to be notified when the first Turgoatkey hatches (or is born… or maybe just wanders in from another dimension), let me know. No promises, but you'll be the first to get a T-shirt.

In the meantime, keep your goats locked up and your turkeys supervised. Because once they start working together, we’re all in trouble.