I'm sitting on the bench at the end of the path® letting the dog roam and he almost caught a turkey. They most certainly can fly but not well. He barely got away.
The dog or the turkey?
My knucklehead decided on his evening constitutional(read: When he goes out after dinner to drop a load) that the buzzard he saw snacking on a flattened armadillo was somehow trespassing on HIS personal property. The buzzard, as you would imagine, was not amused. At. All. Needless to say, our hero decided that taking a dook wasn't that important anymore.
That was over an hour ago. Finally coaxed him back out into the yard to do his job. May well have been the fastest recorded dump in the history of dog-dom. It was as if it was fired out of some kind of a@#-mounted, turd ballistae. Upon running back into the house, I don't think his feet ever touched the ground.
Now he's sitting at my wife's feet looking uber proud of himself.