Bird Troubles... A Comical Horror by Yours Truly, Part I

It was just a normal feeding job...
Dad normally fed the Chickens and Turkeys, unless he wasn't home, or he was sick- which didn't happen very often. But today, he had been unfortunate enough to have some kind of flu. Or maybe he was fortunate enough to have the flu, because it meant that Lisa had to feed the birds.
"Remember to take the scraps." Her mother told her as she prepared to meet her doom.
"Right."
And so, with a bowl of cucumber peelings and cantalope rinds, a half eaten apple and some moldy bread in her hands, she set off.
As she walked across the driveway and down the dirt path to the coop she sang, "I'm off to feed the turkeys, those ugly old turkeys of oz!" and, " Feed the birds, two-million-pence a bag," from the Wizard of Oz and Mary Poppins respectively. Now if you're thinking, 'I don't remember any turkeys in Oz, just flying monkeys', or 'I thought the kid in Mary Poppins had tupence," then you are right. Lisa just happens to be one of those insane people who make up their own lyrics to normal songs.
Back to our story. Arriving at the coop Lisa could hear the incessant cockadoodledoooo! coming from one side and obnoxious gobbling sounds from the other side. Sighing, she undid the latch to the turkeys door.
Bald pink heads swayed in the doorway. "Move!" Lisa said sharply, climbing through the door and quickly shutting it all but a quarter of an inch behind her. In the half light that came through the chicken-wired windows her unadjusted eyes could only just make out the large, black, feathery bodies and long scrawny pink necks and heads of the uglys birds. Black eyes glinted in their wrinkly bird faces and the gobbling increased. Slowly, they began to advance, heads waving.
"Back off!" Lisa said loudly, waving her hands. The front two turkeys dodged sideways and another two took their place, these two bigger and more confident.
"Shoo!" The turkeys took no notice, their slow advance continued. Lisa backed slowly away from the door, around the water dish, toward the corner of the coop and the bags of feed that were now her only hope of escape. The buzz of hundreds of flies filled the air and The March of the Turkeys came on after her. The black eyes were shining with a feverish, hungry, killer turkey glow.
Finally, Lisa saw out of the corner of her eyes the feed bag, covered in feathers and... less disirable turkey leavings. Making faces, she grabbed the very edge of the bag and shook off the... stuff... Then hurriedly stuffed her hand deep into the bag. Almost before it could re-emerge with a handful of the yellow powdery stuff the turkeys lived off of, they were there. Lisa could feel a large rubbery clawed turkey foot on top of her own flip-flop-clad foot. The gobbles were suddenly ravenous and seemingly elephant-trumpet loud.
Turkeys were surrounding her, rubbery feet clawing at jeancovered legs, trying to climb her, trying to reach the food. Screeching, Lisa flung the yellow powder in the direction of the food tray.
It worked.
The feverish eyes followed the foods flight and moments later it was no longer to be seen, completley hidden behind black feathers.
Sighing with relief, Lisa dumped a few more handfuls of yellow into the midst of the bobbing pink heads and hurried back to the door and out into the sunlight.