ENHS Nature Trails October 2002 Article 5

Don't call that Dumbo a Turkey!
by Reida Kimmel

One of the many creatures that enliven our days on the farm are the turkeys. We keep the ordinary white ones, and our border collies are assiduous in driving off any wild turkeys that venture into the pastures. [How do the dogs know the wild turkeys are alien? Why do they even care? They are quite indifferent to our whites.] People, educated people, who visit us, often tell me; "Boy turkeys are stupid! I knew a guy had turkeys. They all went out in the rain, lifted up their heads, opened their beaks and drowned." Right! We've had turkeys for over 20 years and the only one that drowned actually succumbed to hypothermia after it and a pal went for an extended swim in the 100 gallon horse trough. You see, the truth is, turkeys LOVE water: love to play in it, love to drink it in odd postures, (origin of the drowning myth?) and seek out swamps. At this season our three gobblers and one hen enjoy playing in the mud and cattails at the edge of our pond. They come up into the pasture to socialize with the horses and their legs are plastered fatly with gooey black mud. They are hilarious, but then the turkeys are always making me laugh. Turkeys are very vocal. As chicks they keep up a constant peeping, and I can tell from the pitch and frequency whether they are content, frightened, or having a wonderful adventure. If I hear that last sound I know I need to check up on them, because surely they are up to no good. Either they have squeezed through the fence and are hunting raspberries or they are taking a hike down the waterfall into the blackberry thickets or they have discovered our deck. As the turkeys get bigger, we clip one wing on each bird, making flight, except perhaps in tiny circles, impossible. Their marauding days are now over, but undaunted, the turkeys move on to new excitements. By August, adolescence has begun, and the guys devote most of their waking hours to fluffing, puffing and prancing. Every visitor, of whatever species, is greeted by the whole flock, which races to the fence, making much gobbling conversation. People walking and cycling by love to talk to my turkeys, so it gets pretty noisy around here in the fall. Then there is the courtship dance. Did you know that the peculiar loud "poof" sound that a gobbler makes as he displays is actually the passing of gas? Get close sometime, and you will know I speak truth.

Are turkeys stupid? I would say that anyone who calls an animal stupid is just not really observing it. Turkeys are big, powerful flying birds with few natural enemies except us humans. They are more unwary than stupid. They are active and extremely inquisitive, which helps them find a rich and varied diet. (Not that they don't also enjoy their Triple Duty Chicken Feed every evening.) Not an apple falls unnoticed in their pasture. A fallen apple is an object of joy to be commented upon and shared. I could tell turkey tales for hours, and often it is the humans in the stories who end up looking foolish. Perhaps we like to think of turkeys as stupid because it makes us feel better about eating them. Any animal, domestic or wild, is worth observing. It can tell us many interesting things about communication, foraging, and yes, even intelligence. By the way, my this year's fabulous foursome are celebrating the first rainy day of their lives in the horses' favorite "loafing shed," keeping dry, watching their world, including three less than happy horses.

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