Diary of a Transplant: Turkey Troubles

  |  September 13, 2012

Susie down the road, a poultry farmer, called me up one day last spring and asked me if I wanted some turkey poults. She had four Bourbon Red poults that had hatched.

What was I going to say? I eat turkey, don’t I?

So we set up the brooder and went and got the turkeys.

We weren’t expecting them to be so beautiful. They were swan-like and elegant and calm, and just super-cute.

But we knew where they were going to end up, so we didn’t get attached to them. We didn’t name them or spend a lot of time holding them or talking about them. Unfortunately, they didn’t get the memo in which we politely explained that a certain emotional distance would be advised.

They became gangly teenagers, and we moved them to a coop outside and let them free range with the chickens, and that’s where the trouble began.

They became obsessed with us. Any time we went outside, they’d come running, desperately, frantically chirruping to us. They wanted to be with us so badly. If they heard our voices across the field, they’d run to us. If I was watering the garden, they’d madly run into the garden, right up to the hose stream, and drink gratefully from the water that was bubbling at my feet. If we walked around the property, they followed us like a pack of needy dogs.

One night I was cleaning our rental apartment. It was past dinner time, and most of the animals were bedding down for the night. I came out of the apartment and saw this:

My loyal pack, awaiting my return.

As they matured it just got worse. They’d come up to the windows of the house, looking for us. Sometimes they’d get onto the roof and peer in through the second floor windows. If we left the front door open, they would come in the house.

It was funny, but annoying. “Don’t make it so hard for us to eat you,” my kids would say.

Then they made it easy. And not just because they got big and weird-looking and not so cute.

Herewith, the crimes committed by the turkeys:

1. They killed a chick: We had ten teenager chicks that we had just moved out to a coop. They were still young, so we kept an eye on them. None of our older chickens seemed to care about them, and the turkeys just eyed them and moved along. And then came back when we weren’t looking, and pecked one of them to death, leaving a big hole in the poor chick’s head.

2. Then, they killed another chick: After the first death, we quickly put up an ad hoc enclosure to keep the chicks safe. A week later, one of them got out, and was immediately pecked to the edge of death by a turkey. It basically scalped her. We tried to save her, but she was dead by morning.

3. Then, they killed another chick: Our tiniest bantam hen, Baby, appeared one day with six tiny black puffballs orbiting around her– she’d hatched chicks! On the sly! She barely ever lays eggs, so this was pretty amazing. We immediately began setting up a dog crate to keep them safe, and within minutes of us turning our backs on them, the turkeys attacked. We found two chicks down. One survived. The other died a couple of days later.

Three chicks dead.

And now the turkeys do not seem cute. They seem like reptilian predators.

 

They remind me of creations from a science fiction film, skulking around, stopping to slowly regard other creatures, peering at them sideways as their brains run a scan: Food? Food? Attack? Kill?

They are like giant insects, roach-backed and gimlet-eyed. I read recently that turkeys are more closely related to T Rex than any other bird. I can see the resemblance.

And now they chase our dog, our sweet, protective farm dog whose main goal in life is to protect our poultry from predators. They attack her until she finally growls at them and has to run away.

The other day I saw our cat dash across our lawn, and dive into the hostas. The turkeys were right behind him, chasing him.

We don’t let our bunny out anymore. He loves to hang out with the chickens, but we are afraid the turkeys will get him.

You are thinking, why don’t they build a pen? Yes, we should build a pen. I have bought materials to do so. But… other things keep happening. I will build a pen.

Meanwhile, they still love us.

I can’t wait for them to go.

Just 10 weeks til Thanksgiving.

 

 

 

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