Note the full chest of the gobbler on the left. This is the breast sponge. (Photographed in March)
The shrewdness of the turkey is shown by his having no fear of the peaceable farmer at the plow, no more than the crow or the blackbird has. The wild turkey will go into the open field and glean food from the stubble or upturned furrows in full view of the plowman. This I have often seen, and I will cite one incident of this kind, which came under my observation some time ago when hunting in the State of Mississippi. It was a clear, beautiful morning in the month of March. Three old turkeys were gobbling in different directions, along a creek in a swamp, which was about half a mile wide, with fields on each side. Having selected the one I thought the oldest and biggest, I approached it as near as I dared; then, hiding myself in the brush, I began to call. In a short time the other two birds quit gobbling and came quickly to the call, while the one I had chosen continued his gobbling, but in the same place as when first heard. Suddenly I heard "Put-put" directly behind me; turning my head, I saw, within twenty paces of me, a fine gobbler. "Put"—then he was gone. This caused the one gobbling in front of me to become suspicious. He refused to come an inch nearer, and, having heard that alarm, "put," he began to make a detour in order to gain a certain heavily wooded ridge. To do this, without getting too near the spot where he heard the warning cry of his comrade, he had to go over a high rail fence, going through a part of the field just plowed up, while the plowman was there at work in his shirt sleeves, not over one hundred yards away and in full view of the gobbler. The man was moving all the time and frequently holloaing to his mules, "Whoa," "Gee," or "Haw," in such a loud voice that one could hear him a long distance. The turkey would gobble every time the plowman would holloa. He appeared to be perfectly fearless of the plowman, but was employing all his sagacity to avoid the spot where I was. I could not understand this at first, but discovered the reason a little later. The bird had reached the field and was flanking me, but I could not see it on account of the undergrowth. I rose, and by making a detour of about two hundred yards around the angle of the field, keeping well in the woods, I finally discovered the gobbler striding sedately across the field between me and the plowman, who was busily engaged in attending to his furrows, still loudly holloaing from time to time. The gobbler at intervals stopped, strutted, gobbled, and then proceeded on its way. Seeing that I could get no nearer to him, I waited until he was about to cross the fence, when I dropped by a stump, lifted my rifle, and waited for him to mount the fence. This he was some time in doing, but I finally heard the flop, flop, when his fine form with long, pendent beard was seen broadside on by me on the top rail, about eighty-five yards away. In a second the bead of my rifle covered the spot at the wing, and, as I fired, the bird tumbled dead into the field. It was a grand old specimen, and on examining it dry blood was discovered where a buckshot had passed through its leg. There was another shot across the rump, and a third had creased the back of the neck near the head. In my opinion, the bird hearing the "put-put" of the gobbler who came up behind me suspected a hidden enemy, and, having lately been wounded, thought it best to give suspicious places a wide berth.
There are thousands of acres in the South which were once cultivated, but which are now abandoned and growing up with timber, brush, and grass. Such country affords splendid opportunity for the rearing and perpetuation of the wild turkey. These lands are vastly superior for this purpose than are the solid primeval forests, inasmuch as they afford a great variety of summer food, such as green, tender herbage, berries of many kind, grasshoppers by the million, and other insects in which the turkeys delight. Such a country also affords good nesting retreats, with brier-patches and straw where the nest may be safely hidden, and where the young birds may secure safe hiding places from animals and birds of prey; but alas! at present not from trappers, baiters, and pot hunters. Check these, and the abandoned plantations of the South would soon be alive with turkeys.
[CHAPTER VI]
SOCIAL RELATIONS—NESTING—THE YOUNG BIRDS
The wild turkey differs in its domestic relations from the majority of birds, for it does not take one partner or companion, or pair off in the spring, as do most gallinaceous birds. Charles Hallock has stated that turkeys pair off in the spring. I beg to differ with Mr. Hallock. The male turkey does not confine himself to one mate.
He is a veritable Mormon or Turk, polygamous in the extreme, and desires above all a well-filled harem. He cares not a bit for the rearing or training of his family; in fact, it has been alleged that he follows his mates to their nests and destroys and eats the eggs. This I do not believe, nor will I accuse him of such conduct. He is a vain bird and craves admiration, and acts as if he were a royal prince and a genuine dude, and he will have admiration though it costs him his life. He is a gay Lothario and will covet and steal his neighbors' wives and daughters; and if his neighbors protest, will fight to the finish. He is artful, cunning, and sly, at the same time a stupendous fool. One day no art can persuade him to approach you, no matter how persuasively or persistently you call; the next day he will walk boldly up to the gun at the first call and be shot. He has no sentiment beyond a dudish and pompous admiration for himself, and he covets every hen he sees. He will stand for hours in a small sunny place, striving to attract the attention of the hens by strutting, gobbling, blowing, and whining, until he nearly starves to death. I believe he would almost rather be dead than to have a cloudy day, when he is deprived of seeing the sun shining on his glossy plumage; and if it rains, he is the most disconsolate creature on the face of the earth.