When I was in grade school the turkey was a seasonal art object. In October our focus was all on pumpkins, black cats, witches and goblins and spooks. But in November, in those few weeks between Halloween and Thanksgiving, our attention shifted to pilgrims (men with pink – or Crayola‘s "flesh color" skin carrying short muskets with flared muzzles), Indians (generally men with Crayola "Indian red" skins in feathered head dresses carrying D shaped bows, usually with an arrow nocked) and turkeys, great birds that were known to say "Gobble-gobble-gobble" and to have huge fanned tails.
The wild turkeys had been hunted to all but extinction when I was a boy. They were definitely extinct locally. All that turkey lore had to be accepted on faith. None of us had heard a turkey say "gobble-gobble-gobble," none of us had seen a big tom turkey trying to impress the hens with his fanned tail feathers. But none of us had seen a blunderbuss either. We were largely informed by Disney and Warner Brothers about these things. Elmer Fudd had been known to dress up as a pilgrim for dramatic purposes.
Over the last thirty years the turkeys have made a comeback. We have the Department of Natural Resources and the turkey hunters to thank for the stocking program that re-introduced turkeys to Wisconsin.
This morning at about 5:30 when I was out draining the dog, I heard the turkeys gobbling. This is mating behavior. All the strutting displays of plumage with gobble-gobble-gobble audio accompaniment happen in the spring. All this turkey lore was collapsed for school kids because Thanksgiving is an autumnal holiday, yet turkeys’ most interesting behavior is a spring time event.
Wild turkeys are wary birds. They’ve been saved from extinction so nimrods can shoot one each year. This makes them perhaps less than trusting of humans. I took a lot of shots of turkeys dissolving into the shrubbery this morning. The shot that goes with this post is the closest I could get to catching some of that famous strut in pixels.
About 10 years ago, some good soul in Los Altos Hills, California, started hatching and releasing wild turkeys. A gang migrated to Pony Tracks Ranch, where the toms became enamored….of their reflections in front fenders of the two big trucks parked outside.
We had to drape the fenders with feed sacks, because the toms would attack passersby if disturbed in their narcissistic swoonings.
So if you would like to see your toms up close, prop up something reflective.
I was fond of the sound of the turkeys wandering about.
Thanks for the idea Liz. I’ll try it!