Alluring Wild Turkeys
Wild turkeys file out into the clearing from the cover of Gambel oak. Almost immediately, the older males (toms) fan out their tails and begin parading back and forth like agitated football coaches. The females or hens regard them with studied indifference. “Gobblegobblegobble!” One male’s call is soon echoed by the others. It’s early April and high time to impress the ladies. Suddenly, their attention focuses on a jogger loping toward them down a nearby trail. The turkeys watch for a few seconds, their naked heads turning bright red with agitation, before racing for cover. Their long, powerful legs propel them quickly into safety. No reason to fly into the conifers at the bottom of the hill. They’re good at flying but often only take wing as a last resort. Once back among the oaks, the large birds begin to forage on tasty buds, fresh young grasses, insects, and the occasional leftover acorn. Soon the hens will clear shallow nests in the leaves. It’s dangerous to nest on the ground, for both the mothers and the young poults, but their camouflage will help them hide from predators. When they’re about ten days old, the poults will be capable of flying short distances and will roost in the conifers alongside their parents.
Roosting time gives us the perfect opportunity to listen to turkey sounds. My favorite of their many vocalizations is a short call that sounds exactly like a drop of water plopping into a puddle. Turkeys also purr when they’re feeling safe and content amidst their flockmates and cackle when they leave their roosting trees in the morning. The earliest turkey evolved in North America about 20 million years ago but by the 1930s their numbers were low due to habitat destruction and overhunting. Thankfully, populations have since recovered and it’s easy to observe these gregarious birds in the Foothills. Playful and curious, turkeys have been filmed playing with deer and squirrels, two animals they sometimes forage alongside. Their domesticated siblings are affectionate and, when given the opportunity, form strong emotional bonds with their human caretakers. Contrary to urban myth, turkeys are far from stupid and do not drown in rainstorms. Wild turkeys have adapted to become an integral species in myriad landscapes across North America and I, for one, am glad of that.
By Maria Goller
