Turkey Time

They're like the deer and the robins.  Sometime during the year, they disappear to an unknown destination for several months, and then, seemingly from out of nowhere, they reappear in July, with new babies.

For five years now, we've had turkeys in our woods during the summer months. As with any of the wild critters---four-legged or two---which spend time here at our farm, we've been keeping daily tabs on this year's bunch of mamas and babies, and we've started to notice some patterns.

They remain somewhere in the woods during the night.  They go on early-morning scouting/grazing missions.  There's a head mama who keeps the troops in order---as much as she can, anyway.

Bill noted when I came out for my first cup of coffee this morning that the turkeys hadn't arrived yet.  I suggested that they might have slept in this morning.

About an hour later, after taking the horses to pasture, I noticed movement over in the manure-pile garden next to Meserve's fence.  Big turkeys and little turkeys were skittering along the mounds where potatoes and corn are growing.

I wondered briefly if they're the creeps who've stolen all my cucumbers, eaten the tops off the sunflowers, the potatoes and even one brand of flowers (clarkia).  

But turkeys aren't tall enough for sunflowers.  They might have eaten the cukes, but I doubt it. 

Anyway, the troops were in disarray this morning,  with several lagging behind over in Meserve's pasture.  Bert Wood's cow herd happened to be in that area too, and they were definitely uneasy.  Turkeys must do that to cows.

Mama Turkey kept chirping that high-pitched call for her folks to quit dawdling and to fall in to line.  When she saw me standing there watching, she decided to head for the barnyard, persistently summoning the rest of her group all along the way.  

Soon, through an opening in the trees, one, two, three----maybe as many as ten turkeys of different sizes raced to catch up with the rest.  They all convened at the barnyard and then headed back through another opening into Meserve's woods.

As I walked to the house, I could hear Bert's big bull bellering with his deep base fighting voice next door.  I'm sure he was signaling to the turkeys that they'd better get to scootin'. 

We haven't seen the gobblers at our bird feeder yet this morning, but I'm sure they'll show up.  When they do, one of the dogs will go out there, let out one bark, just to keep them honest and then retreat.

For some reason, our dogs don't chase the turkeys.  In comparison to their many hours of intense squirrel watching, they seem to have a "live and let live" attitude toward them.

We've enjoyed these daily visitors, and,  so far, unlike I've heard from others, they haven't made a mess anywhere around the yard.  As long as they're tidy when they pass through, we'll welcome them.

If their habits change, though, you can be sure I'll talk to the Kea and tell her it's okay to chase them off, just like she does when Bert's cows get into our hayfield. 

In the meantime, we're happy to see them every morning, and each day we're learning more and more about their pecking order, i.e., the boss, those obedient souls who automatically fall in line and follow orders no matter what and, of course,  the stragglers who get easily distracted and then have to play catch up.

A lot like humans, if you ask me.