Wild Turkey
I have had one year of full-time observations in Vermont now, and there is something gratifying about the abundance of Wild Turkeys in our neighborhood, and in this state in general. The Wild Turkey is an amazing creature: many times larger than the average bird, seemingly slow moving, it has the appearance of something that would not last long in the presence of predators. But the turkey has lots of tricks up its sleeve.
First of all, the Wild Turkey is a very capable flier. This is counter to the description often presented in the popular press. I have come across turkeys while walking in the woods and in the fields when, once they see my full figure, decide to escape to a safer position with a very quick beating of the wings, sometimes rising in the air quite high and quite swiftly. Apparently many people assume such a large, fat creature, so often seen on the ground, must be like an ostrich or emu or rhea, which are birds with similar foraging habits that gave up flight eons ago. Not our bird: North America's forest-dwelling wolves and cats forced the turkey to stay flight-capable despite its girth.
Second, the Wild Turkey is a social bird. Large flocks, in any bird species, help them keep aware of predators and avoid the pounce of a coyote, mountain lion, or bobcat. It is such a joy to see our local flocks, numbering typically about 15 in the summer, but congregating to 50 in the fall, and on occasion in a few hundred in winter. It was great to have our flock of 13 come right into our backyard in late September and lounge on the lawn in mid morning.
The scene in our yard in late September
The Wild Turkey is supremely well adapted to the combination of forest and open farmland in Vermont. They are essentially omnivores, going for all kinds of seeds, nuts, and insects, raking through the leaf litter with impressively long claws, which double as weapons when a predator gets too close. Salamanders and snakes also get consumed.
In this depressing era of decline of wildlife populations,
the Wild Turkey resurgence is something to celebrate. It was formerly a victim of
the great deforestation that blighted the Vermont landscape in the late 1700s
and early 1800s. Reportedly, three quarters of the state’s forests were
leveled, a landscape so crudely and massively altered that turkeys disappeared nearly
entirely. As forests finally recovered and the state’s agencies awoke from
their slumber, the birds were reintroduced (in 1969) from stock taken in neighboring
northern New York State. In 2022, recovery must be effectively complete,
given the fact that it is difficult to take a drive in rural parts of the state
without seeing a flock or two foraging in harvested fields in the fall.
Wild Turkeys have now adapted even to towns and cities. I
saw one in a Boston residential neighborhood a few months ago. Homeowners are
starting to use the term “pest.” But, as with the Red Fox, you have to admire
their ability to adapt and succeed, even in strange environments. I would
rather have Wild Turkeys in urban parks than Rock Pigeons and Starlings that
don’t belong.
Tracks in the snow. Seen in New Mexico, where the species has also come back successfully.
A group trotting through farmland down the road
