THE TURKEY AND THE GUINEA FOWL
So far we have had to do with birds and beasts of foreign birth. As men from abroad have peopled our cities, so animals from abroad have peopled our fields, and we have not as yet met with one true American in the list.
It is lucky that I have a native American to offer you, and one that is in some ways the finest of all our birds of the farm. This is the Turkey, the largest of them all and the choicest when roasted and served upon the table. We may well ask, what would a Christmas dinner be like without this noble bird to fill the place of honor?
There are wild turkeys still in our woods, though the bullets of the hunter have left few of those once found there. These wild birds have certain odd habits well worth speaking of. Thus the male birds keep away from the females during a great part of the year, going about in flocks of from ten to a hundred, and feeding on grain, seeds, fruits, insects, tadpoles, lizards and such small game. The females go about singly or in flocks with their young. They take care to keep away from the old males, which have a bad habit of killing and eating the young.
Turkeys roost in trees but make their nests on the ground, laying from ten to twenty eggs before setting. These are much larger than the egg of the hen. The wild turkeys have small wings and are poor flyers, so that when they try to cross a river a mile wide many give out and fall into the water. But they usually manage to swim ashore.
There are two species of wild turkey in America, one native to the United States and Mexico and one found in Central America. The latter is somewhat smaller than our home bird but is finer in color, its feathers being of a beautiful metallic-green or bronze color, with hues of black, gold and sky color. The male turkey has a habit much like that of the peacock. He spreads his large tail upward like a fan, while his wings are made to trail on the ground. In this way he struts round and round with great dignity, giving vent at times to a loud "gobble, gobble," an odd sound of his own.
The tame animal has the same habits, gobbling and strutting in the same way. Cared for and fed for the market, it grows to be a large and fat bird, with plenty of rich, juicy meat upon its bones. It is its size and the sweetness and delicacy of its flesh which make it a feast-day favorite.
The turkey is fond of roaming about and does not like to be confined to the poultry yard. On a large farm, where there is plenty of room to wander, the bird will do well and find most of its own food. But the young birds are delicate and hard to raise and it takes great care to bring them alive through babyhood. The hot sun hurts them and so do rain-storms and it is bad for them to get wet by running through long grass. If they are carefully attended to for their first few weeks of life and fed on food fitted to their young tastes they can be trusted afterwards to take good care of themselves.
While this bird has long been one of the prized tenants of our home poultry yards, the same is the case in Europe. There is a Mexican variety, with a whitish tail, which was taken to Europe by the early Spaniards and has spread widely in that continent, where it is raised with great care.
There are few large farms in America and Europe on which these birds are not kept—not in large numbers like the hen, for they do not take kindly to home life and need much room to wander, but enough for the demand. They are first-class hatchers, and will sit on from twenty to twenty-four eggs. They also take very good care of their flocks and guard them from harm.
The turkey, as we all know, is a large bird. It may be had of many sizes for the Christmas table, from ten or twelve pounds up to twenty-five or thirty. While much attention is paid to it in this country, it perhaps gets still more in Europe. In our cities it is a sad case when a family cannot have a roast turkey for its Christmas dinner, and in England it is taking the place of the roast goose, once the favorite. But the goose still holds a pleasant corner in the British mind. Any of you who have read Dickens's story of Tiny Tim and Bob Cratchit's Christmas dinner will be sure of this.
It is a queer fact that, while the turkey is the only American bird on our farms, it is at the same time the only one that has been given an old world name. It was early named after the Turks, under a wrong impression as to its origin, and the name has clung to it. It is quite as strange that the same must be said of the natives of America, who were given the name of Indians from the idea of Columbus that it was the land of India he had found. This name has also clung.
France is a country well suited to the raising of turkeys, and for hundreds of years the turkey has been a favorite bird in that land. Splendid birds are grown there, chief among them being the Solonge turkey. This is a bird of a brilliant black color, though now and then it is of white or steel-blue. They grow to be very large, one having been sent to the poultry shows of 1902 of the great weight of forty-five pounds.
This was sent to Spain to be seen and was visited in Madrid by the king and queen. On its return it took cold and when it got well of this it was killed by a fellow who did not believe in fat turkeys. The turkey was revenged, for the murderer spent five months in prison for his crime.
In some of the villages of France a woman is paid at the public cost as a care-keeper of the turkeys. Every morning she gathers her flock in the village and leads them to the open fields like the goose girl of Russia. When she comes home at night with her flock she does not need to pick out those of the different owners. Every bird knows its home and goes there, never making a mistake.
Driving Turkeys to Market
That is all we need now say about the turkey. The rest may be left unsaid till the Christmas dinner, when the noble bird lies brown and steaming on his back in the great platter. Then the carver stands over him knife in hand and we hear from him the customary question, "Which will you have, white meat or dark?" To most of us it does not matter which so that we get a bounteous share.
The Guinea-fowl, of which we shall speak in passing, must be dealt with briefly, for it is not largely kept in our home poultry yards, though much attention is paid to it in some parts of the world. It is one of the few gifts which Africa has made to our home-life family.
This bird belongs in the pheasant tribe and is found in Guinea and South Africa. It also occurs in the north and was much liked by the ancient Romans. But it is better fitted to warm than to cold climates, and as the young are apt to die of infant troubles it is not kept in large numbers in our poultry yards. Yet the bird and its eggs bring good prices in the market.
The climate of Jamaica is just right for the Guinea-fowl and in that island it has made itself at home, taking to the woods and to a wild life. There it has become fond of feeding on the growing crops and is hunted and shot like a game bird.
The special fact about this bird rests in its color, it being prettily speckled with round white spots on a dark gray color of plumage. There are several species, the best known being the common guinea, which is often called "come-back" from its call. In its wild state it gathers in large flocks and is very shy and hard to get near, while it keeps up most of the time a harsh cry which Latham compares to a door turning on rusty hinges or a wheel on an ungreased axle. In the farm-yard it perches at night in high places and if disturbed rouses up the whole neighborhood by its ceaseless cry.
The eggs of the Guinea-fowl are smaller than those of the hen and rounder in shape. They are of a reddish-white color, and are delicious eating. Many are laid and the female has the habit of hiding her nest until the young are hatched out. The flesh tastes like that of the pheasant, but is rather dry. It was served up at the Roman feasts, and is much liked now by many persons.
It may be further said about this bird that it is at times a nuisance in the poultry yard, for the male guinea has the tendency to attack the other poultry and act the tyrant over them. Another habit is to scrape in the ground like a hen. It also loves to roll in the dust and thus free itself from insects.