Talking Turkey
By June Capossela Kempf
A blood curdling scream tore through the air as my neighbor, Fanny, ran around in her backyard, trying to escape the wrath of an angry creature, chasing her all around her property.
At first, I thought it was a goose, but then, as I got closer, I realized – this was something else. As it turned its menacing head, a distinctive orange wattle flapped in the wind, and then I knew it was a wild turkey, about to dig its sharp ugly beak into Fanny’s calf.
“Get in the house!” I yelled. I didn’t need to tell her twice, She darted through her back door like a rocket and slammed it shut before her attacker could get any closer.
With its intended target out of reach, the big bird turned away, skipped a few steps, spread out giant wings and flew up on my roof.
Turkeys can fly?
Next thing I knew, phone calls and texts began rolling in. Neighbors warning me - “Do you know there’s a turkey on your roof?”
My friend Bonnie called to say that the turkey’s wingspan was so huge; it cast a shadow that blocked the sun from her window.
Its colors were vivid. Shimmering copper hues mixed with electric blues and browns were fully displayed as he cut a path through the air towards his destination.
The only turkeys I ever encountered, before this, were found inside a turkey farm or sitting pretty on my Thanksgiving dinner table wearing cute little booties on each delicious drumstick. I never expected to see one flying around the neighborhood.
So, I looked it up and learned that wild turkeys mainly live in wooded areas, don’t have their wings clipped and do fly short distances. My source of information came from the writings of Dr. Sunny Carran, a NY City Parks Department coordinator. She states that wild turkeys usually hang out within their flocks, but there were some extreme exceptions.
Here we go.
My research confirmed that it is indeed strange for this bird to be wandering around all by itself. If one is alone, there are two serious possibilities that could account for this bird’s odd behavior.
One, it’s a tom that has been banned from the flock because he is considered to be too low on the social ladder to be included in the group. He is ousted until he measures up in the pecking order – or it’s a hen that may have only been feeding, while searching for her lost brood that got separated from the nest. . Whatever, I bet it was a tom because of its brilliant coloring, but what do I know?
In either case, Tommy was not, at the moment in a very good mood especially after Fannie initially had tried to chase him away with a broom.
“Why did you do that?” I asked when she finally ventured out of her house.
“It was nibbling on my flowers,” she cried.
Most likely, he was chomping on the bugs that were eating her plants - another tidbit of information that, this time, was supplied by Alexa.
Fannie may have had second thoughts about picking on a live turkey if she lived in a different age or culture where the turkey is regarded as an intelligent and spiritual entity. In these societies, they are honored as symbols of harmony and bountifulness. Mistreating a wandering turkey in another culture could result in serious consequences -including fines and imprisonment. Furthermore, a lone turkey showing up at your door, is a rare sign of good fortune and prosperity.
“Just let him be,” I advised Fannie.
Fannie was unimpressed. She saw nothing to be gained from her experience. She talked to Fred, our mail carrier, who suffered the misfortune of an encounter with the winged wonder. He had to make a mad dash to his truck to get away from it. Luckily, he didn’t lose any junk mail in the melee.
“All the repellants the experts suggest - don’t work,” he raged. He too wouldn’t mind seeing this bird gobbled up by another predator.
Tom returned to my patio a few days later, appearing rather tame and upbeat – bobbing his head up and down, boogying around on the pavers, having a good old time. When he noticed I was watching from the inside of my sliding glass doors, he suddenly waddled over and proceeded to stare at me eye-to-eye; as if appealing for me to applaud his little act. Needless to say an immediate bond was formed, but just as suddenly, he moved on down the street and then I began to worry about his safety out there by himself. So I called animal rescue and spoke to someone named Andy
“I’m worried that Tommy will get hit by a car,” I said.
“You named the bird?” I couldn’t answer
“Lady, by the time we send someone out to find your Tommy. He would have been long gone.”
I was afraid of that. I could only hope that by now Tommy had risen high enough on the turkey totem pole to be once again welcomed back to his flock with open wings.
I’ll miss you big guy.