Of sleeping turkeys

Five came up to my room after supper last night, asking for bubbles.  That's the screen saver I use on my laptop: bubbles.  The float happily and bounce gently against each other around the screen, subtly changing colour.  He's fascinated by them. 

Up he climbed onto the stool with me, tucked between my legs and leaning back against me.  After a while he said, "I'm all done with them for now" and asked for something else.  I opened youtube, and asked for a piece of music I really like.  It's a man playing piano by himself on stage, just him in the spotlight, singing a beautiful song about God. He got really still and quiet, feeling heavier and heavier against me, head listing more and more to the side until I feared for his tender little neck.  By the end of the song I realized he was sound asleep, totally out of it.

What should I do?  If I called out for help, he might wake up but would that be a bad thing?  It was still somewhat early, but surely he couldn't sleep the whole night in my lap? My leg was cramping and I really wanted some water. Fortunately I had my cell phone within reach, so I called our landline, which was answered in the kitchen by Daddy Nut. His bed was made with fresh linens, and he was swooped out of my arms and laid so softly, so carefully in it, still wearing the clothes of the day for we didn't want to wake him.  After all that tip-toeing and stealth, it was as the door was about to close that he opened his eyes and perked right up again and spent the next hour in bed decidedly not sleeping.

Turkey.