Turkey Rumination Mind-Trot

A Fowl Free-Write

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Yesterday I awoke to a sound that has become over-familiar during the last decade and a half, the "Eee-ee-eee" and "gobble-gobble" of some of the most persistent and enduring creatures: turkeys.

My first experience with wild turkeys was when I pulled my shiny new car up to my grandparent's house in the part of the North Idaho forest that they lived in. My new ride gleamed with only the glow a freshly waxed and never driven on a dirt road patina that a car can have. After visiting with my grandparents for a little bit, I heard my grandpa chuckle when he went out to get a stick of stove wood. Upon investigating the source of his mirth, I discovered that two tom turkeys were all a-poofed. The two birds feathers were all fanned out and they were thumping their chests in all out irritation at two new interlopers. The invaders in question were the two tom's reflections in the gleam of my new car. For about forty-five minutes the preening and thumping continued as the toms would rush their reflections. I often wondered if they were perhaps curious as to why they could never spur the invading toms, but then again, they were turkeys.

Later, during my tenure at my friend's feed store, we ended up with some heritage turkeys. I brought home some Blue Slate and Bourbon Red birds, and the next phase of our turk-education began. Our kids were toddlers at the time, and one of the hens in particular adopted our son. Bobo and his turkey toddled along together all over the farm, and it wasn't uncommon to see her lay down next to him as he played in the dirt or snow, him speaking cave man as toddlers do to his bird and she eee-eeing in reply. The day a rampaging dog broke into our turkey pen and killed our birds was a sad one indeed.

A few years later I ended up with some more Bourbon red birds. Heritage breed turkeys are comical, more intelligent than their over-bred production brethren, and tend to be very affectionate. It was a common sight to come out the front or back door in the morning and be greeting by forty pounds of perched on the porch railing tom. In fact, I preferred them on the railing to on my shoulder or back, it's hard to keep your balance when something that weighs a third pf what you do is trying to ride all raptor-like on your shoulder!

In fact, our turkeys were more than a bit of a group of hitchhikers. It was not uncommon to see them riding around on the backs of our dairy goats over the years. I honestly cannot understand why the does and wethers would tolerate it, but then again, I am not a goat. They're weird and capricious, they probably allowed it just to confuse me.

Our latest turkey, er, pet was a Midget White that we affectionately named Queenie. She would perch on the lawn chair you would plunk yourself into on a hot day and try to steal an ice cube out of your lemonade. She had the audacity to look offended if you scolded her. The funniest thing about Queenie is that she wouldn't let any of the cats come near us if she was holding court in our presence, and let me tell you, all of her twelve pounds could be fierce. We were sad the day she decided to join the flock of wild turkeys that called to her, but then again, she probably enjoyed being in charge of that crew.

Which brings me back to yesterday morn. We don't have any domestic turkeys this year to entertain us with, but like all voids, Nature knows how to fill it. Well at least a lack of bird void, for as I wandered out to water my tomatoes, I was greeted with a flock of young hens right outside my back door. It was like a version of West Side Gobbling, for just down the driveway was a couple of preening, puffed out toms and an older hen. I smiled to myself as the birds chatted back and forth, and went about my business to a soundtrack of sounds that have punctuated my entire adult existence in this chunk of North Idaho woods that I dwell on. I also ate a turkey burger later, cause reasons.

And on that note, I hope that you all are having a smashing Memorial Day weekend, one full of remembrances, rollicking good times, and perhaps a turkey comestible or two;o)

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And as always, all of the images in this post were taken on the author's iPhone, old iPhone, or ancient relic of a digital camera.

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