Ah, Parker the Protector, that’s what I’ve come to affectionately call our plucky pug with a heart of gold. You see, Parker’s journey as the guardian of our inkberry bushes began shortly after Gail and I moved to picturesque Plymouth a few years ago. Nestled between our yard and our friendly neighbor’s property, a row of inkberry bushes stood proudly, a testament to the tranquility of New England life.

Now, inkberries may not be fit for human consumption, but they’re a veritable feast for our feathered friends, especially during the harsh New England winters. Those bushes, tended with the gentlest of care, had grown into a charming hedge row, reaching heights of over three feet. And they were, to put it simply, delightfully low-maintenance. Just plant them, water them, and promptly forget about them.

Each morning, like clockwork, I take our beloved Parker for a leisurely walk around 7 AM. One crisp morning, Parker and I emerged from the warmth of our home to a rather curious sight – a gathering of no less than a dozen turkeys feasting on our cherished inkberry bushes. They pecked and plucked, their plumage shimmering in the early morning light.

Parker and I stopped dead in our tracks, standing about twenty feet away, utterly captivated by the spectacle unfolding before us. Turkeys, as it turns out, aren’t known for their polite manners. The largest of the flock, a pompous male, decided it was time to assert his authority. With a thunderous flap of his wings and an unmistakable gobble that only turkeys could produce, he approached us with an air of authority.

In that very moment, I found myself at a crossroads, torn between ushering Parker back into the house to avoid a potential confrontation and letting the scene play out. However, before I could make a decision, Parker made one for me.

Our small, 24-pound dynamo sprang into action. In the blink of an eye, he had located the end of his eight-foot leash and unleashed a torrent of barks and growls that I had never heard from his compact frame. It was as if he’d been possessed by the spirit of a mighty protector, a valiant guardian of the inkberry treasure trove.

In a matter of seconds, the turkeys scattered, fleeing down the side yard between our houses. Parker remained steadfast, watching them retreat for another minute or so. With an air of undeniable satisfaction, he then trotted back to my side, his tail wagging, his head held high. He seemed to say, “Fear not, dear humans, for I, Parker the Protector, have defended our inkberry bushes!”

I couldn’t find it in my heart to explain to him that the inkberries were intended for our avian friends, including the local wild turkey population. To Parker, they were a valuable treasure, worth defending at all costs.

And so, our pug Parker has taken on a new role as the valiant guardian of our inkberry bushes. Every morning, he dutifully inspects the perimeter, ensuring that no feathered invaders dare to feast on our precious shrubs. He may be small in stature, but he possesses the heart of a lion, ready to defend what he holds dear. Fortunately, for our local bird population, he doesn’t seem to notice that by mid-winter, the inkberry bushes have been stripped clean. There seems to be a detente that this feasting simply won’t go on in his presence.

So, here’s to Parker the Protector, our fearless defender of the inkberry bushes, a little pug with a big sense of duty and a whole lot of love in his heart.

Happy food gardening, and happy eating!