The turkeys, at the first start, whirr up into the air with a thundering noise; and usually fly to the distance of half a mile—when they drop down to the earth. On touching terra firma, however, they do not suspend their flight; for it is continued along the ground: almost as rapidly as in the air—both legs and wings being brought into play.
The chase for a time now very much resembles that of the ostrich; between which bird and the wild turkey there are many points of resemblance. The race is usually in a direct line, and towards some heavy timber, which may be seen in the distance.
Should the latter chance to be near, and up-hill from the point of starting, the turkey will distance both dogs and hunters, and escape to the trees. On the other hand, if a sufficient space of open prairie intervene, either level or down hill, the quadrupeds will eventually close upon the birds, when the latter will once more take to wing.
This second appeal to his pinions is not so prolonged as the first; and after flying a few hundred yards, the gobbler will once more “come to grass,” and go legging it, with outstretched neck and flopping wings as before—as before to be overhauled by hounds and horsemen.
Perhaps he may attempt a third and still shorter flight; but if a grove be near, or a single tree, or even a tuft of bushes, he will take to one or the other—in the hope of hiding himself from his relentless pursuers.
He will either fly up into the tree, or bury his body among the hushes. If it be a tall tree, he will not succeed in getting a safe roost: for he is already too fatigued, and, being a pecan-fed gobbler, too fat for this last exertion. In all likelihood he will stick his head into a thick bush or tussock of long grass—where the dogs will soon “cook his goose” for him, although he be a turkey-gobbler.
As, during our journey towards the pecan prairie, I had been theoretically initiated into the mysteries of this peculiar chase, I determined, after arriving on the ground, to play my part without reference to any guidance from my companions: for it frequently happens that a flock of turkeys after being once “scared up,” fly in different directions, leaving each hunter a choice as to the bird or birds he may follow—the dogs being necessarily permitted to make a similar selection.
As it chanced on that particular occasion, our turkey hunt turned out an affair of the scattering kind—at least, mine did—carrying me so far away from my companions, that I not only lost sight of them, but my way as well; and came precious near sustaining the loss of something more important than either—my scalp!
Almost the instant after entering among the islands of timber, we discovered a gang of gobblers. They were not all gobblers, correctly speaking: for the flock was a promiscuous one—comprising old and young birds, as well as male and female. They were in the very situation desired by the hunters: that is far out upon the open prairie, where they could not easily retreat to the heavy timber, without giving us a long chase, plenty of sport, and probably one or two captures. They were “grazing” along the edge of a little grove or coppice—which my companions could easily identify as composed of pecan-trees—the nuts of which, no doubt, had attracted them to the place.
By good fortune a series of similar “islands,” forming a sort of archipelago, extended from the point where we first came in sight of the turkeys, to that beside which they were picking up the pecan-nuts.