foraging on the verge

foraging on the verge 

five bronze-cloaked wild turkeys blend

with winter's oak leaves

A small flock of five wild turkeys pass through the mowed yard between the cedar fence around our house and the surrounding woods of mixed oak and hickory. They usually appear in early morning or late afternoon, sometimes in single file, sometimes forming a loose circle as they bend their necks to the ground to forage for acorns and nuts.

They showed up after Thanksgiving, as if celebrating their freedom from the fate of their domestic cousin.

One of them appears to be a male, bigger, with a redder head and wattle. From time to time he spreads his beautiful striped wings as if he is herding his harem of hens.

The turkeys forage right up to the lattice fence. I keep expecting them to fly over it, to peck at the black oil sunflower seeds and apple cores I put out for the birds. Big as they are, they are agile flyers, though they usually fly low to the ground. So far they merely peer over the low fence. However, yesterday when I came home, three deer jumped over the fence, from the narrow space next to the house. One after the other, they leapt full out over the barrier and sped off into the woods, white tails held aloft.

everything hidden

everything hidden

now out in the open as

winter turns to spring

On St. Patrick's Day, surprise lilies are piercing dead leaves with their chartreuse fingers, reaching for the sunlight that will turn them dark green. Everything hidden emerging from winter's stillness. Five wild turkeys leave the protection of the woods to forage in a cornfield. A herd of whitetail deer, veiled in mist, rummage for last year's corn in the same field. Canada geese stop at the thawing farm ponds, standing on thin ice, swimming in the open water, pecking corn in the nearby field. 
          One day I emerged from the dining hall just as an enormous flock flew over, heading north by west. There must have been hundreds of birds in layers of wavering lines weaving in and out, spanning half the sky. Of course, the thing that remained hidden that day was my camera, unfortunately left at home. But I don't think I could have captured the enormity of that migrating mass of geese with anything other than my wondering eyes. I stood on the steps, mouth open, pointing up with my right hand, amazed that no one joined me.

wild tracks in the snow

wild tracks in the snow

along the creek -- whitetail deer,

wild turkey, rabbit, squirrel

Lozenges of dark water murmur through duvets of snow still blanketing Pilgrim Creek. The calligraphy of wild animal tracks punctuates the pristine canvas -- whitetail deer cutting heart shape prints in the snow as they come down to drink, the curvilinear script punched into the snow by the three-pronged feet of wild turkey, blossoms of cottontail rabbit toes meandering like wild rose vines along the banks, and the funny squiggles of a squirrel snuffling through the snow in search of seeds.

chasing clouds I find

chasing clouds I find

wild plums, poison ivy vines,

wild turkey feather

Chasing pink cumulus palaces hovering on the horizon above a green ocean of soybeans, I am arrested by a thicket that engulfs the low barbed wire fence on the narrow strip of land running between the field and the gravel road. Pacing the road, I get glimpses of the clouds through the tangle of branches and vines, but I want a bigger a window. Suddenly something small and pink dangling from a bare branch catches my attention -- a wild plum, and there are many more, in shades of red, orange, yellow and purple. 
          Looking up, I notice that the delicate wild plum trees are nearly overwhelmed by gigantic poison ivy vines with huge green leaves and clusters of creamy white berries mingling with the plums. I'm not happy to see a proliferation of this noxious weed growing along our road. Poison ivy likes to grow on the edge of things, and where the plants are not mowed down, they will creep along the ground, spring up into bushes and climb trees. They're not bothered by lack of moisture, so they've been especially lush and abundant this hot, dry summer. However, birds will eat the berries, without harm, so at least poison ivy is good for something other than its own reproduction.
          I pick a few of the ripest plums, being careful not to brush my bare hands against the poison ivy leaves, whose sap can cause a nasty skin rash. The fruit is quite tart but refreshing, so I fill my pockets. Many of the fruits have fallen and are scattered on the gravel, some still pink and whole, but most are purple and broken open. It looks like something has been eating the ripe plums. I know that birds will peck at fruit and chipmunks and raccoons also love fruit.
          While I'm looking at the smashed plums on the ground, I spot a long brown and black striped feather. Perhaps the plum eater was a wild turkey who left this elegant calling card among the red and yellow leaves and purple plums.   

misty gray morning

misty gray morning --

wild turkey flying overhead, 

barred wings and tail outspread

Driving down the gravel hill, I nearly hit a wild tom turkey when he flies up over the truck at a low angle. I just have time to take a mental snapshot of white barred wing feathers outspread, chestnut tufted tail fanned out, long tuft of feathers on his chest hanging down, legs bent, toes curled up, bumpy red head craning forward.
      Wild turkeys will fly to escape danger and also to roost in trees, often over water for added protection. Amazing that anything that big (2.5-11 kg or 5-24 lbs and 76-125 cm or 30"-49") can fly at all, but they are actually fantastic fliers for short distances. They can take-off like helicopters, going almost straight up. And when they fly straight ahead, they go fast. A wild turkey was clocked at 55 miles per hour. It's an inspiration for those of us who yearn to fly, not in some contraption but under our own power. In addition to their flying skills, wild turkeys can dash up to 18 miles per hour for a short sprint, faster than an Olympic runner. 
          After the Great Seal was adopted by Congress in 1782, with the Bald Eagle in the center, Benjamin Franklin expressed his opinion in a letter to his daughter that "the Turkey is in Comparison a much more respectable Bird, and withal a true original Native of America." Native Americans refer to the Wild Turkey as the Southern Eagle and it played a large part in their culture. It was a favorite food (eggs and meat) of Eastern tribes, who also wore turkey feather headdresses and cloaks. Whenever I find a turkey feather lying beside the path in the woods, I imagine Benjamin Franklin, stationed in France, writing that letter to his daughter in Pennsylvania with a turkey quill pen.

bald eagle watching

bald eagle watching

movement in the snow, the road,

takes flight when I stop

The wild turkeys are in the corn field again, though just one small group close to the road. Further on, across from the little county park with its tall pine trees, I spot a large bird in a bare tree right by the road. I slow down, thinking it must be a red-tailed hawk, but as I get closer I see the white head and tail, a bald eagle! In years past, we had to drive clear over to the Mississippi River to see them. Now they’re just down the road from home. I pull over and watch as the eagle watches trucks passing by, one van pulling out of the driveway next to the tree. But when I turn around and come back for a closer look, the eagle takes flight, swooping with outspread wings over the grove of pines.

out from the dark woods

out from the dark woods

onto white fields the turkeys

venture to forage

The next day, around midday, there they are again, closer to the road. I stop and take more photos. I love the contrast of the dark woods and the dark turkeys against the white snow. The toms have this funny fringe at the base of their necks, and they are larger and darker than the hens. I think they are quite handsome birds, really, with their iridescent feathers. I have a stash of their feathers in a gourd vase, gathered on walks along Pilgrim Creek and some from our yard where the turkeys also venture out of the woods to feed in the grasses.

snow-covered corn field

snow-covered corn field –

a flock of wild turkeys scratch

the stubble for seeds

 

There must be two dozen wild turkeys in this fallow cornfield right next to the road, vigorously scratching the ground, tossing up snow, and plunging their beaks into the stubble to peck at seeds. The males look up more often and sometimes wander off alone to forage. I have never seen so many at once. The continual extreme cold and snow cover must have driven them out into the open. I watch them for a quarter of an hour and they appear undisturbed by passing trucks or one person in a parked car taking many photos.

across snow-covered

across snow-covered

pond, wild turkey flying low

then prancing away 

Yes, they do fly, often roosting high up in trees. This one flew all the way across our neighbor's pond, within a wingspan of the snow, looking as graceful as an eagle with wide outspread wings. I wish I had a video of that!