Talking turkey

I spend a lot of time watching the birds here.  There's robins, blue jays, finches, wrens, starlings and more.  In the summer there is the occasional hummingbird which is exciting.

But this morning I was looking out and chanced to see this fellow scratching at the ground.

It (I think "he", what they call a tom, but I'm not quite sure) is a wild turkey.  I've only seen one here once before, briefly by the side of the road.  They're shy birds so they don't really hang about people much.  This was quite an unusual event, then.

The first thing I have to say about it is that it was huge.  I've seen pictures, I've seen farmed turkeys from afar, and I've eaten them too (in fact there's the remains of one of this chap's domesticated cousins in the fridge as I type; I'm feeling a bit bad about that now).  None of this prepared me for the tom I saw this morning.  It seemed to be almost a metre tall (that's three feet in the old money), which my references inform me is typical for the eastern wild turkey.  From tip to tail they are three to four feet long.  It's not as scary as a bear, I'll grant you, but I still wouldn't want to run into one of these in a dark alley.

The second thing that struck me is that it doesn't look anything like depictions of turkeys I've seen before.  If it wasn't for the big bare red neck and the size of the thing I might not have put two and two together. In shape and motion it looks a bit like a pukeko.

The colouring, which isn't that easy to make out here, is generally brown but also iridescent green and blue.  In just about every picture I've ever seen of a turkey, though, they're depicted looking like an explosion at a feather factory, with tail fanned and chest puffed out.  That is, in fact, the mating display of the male.  Most of the time they adopt this more modest, compact form.

My reference also tells me that Benjamin Franklin lobbied to make the turkey the American national bird, and I can see why.  This one certainly had a majestic look to it as it strolled through the snow.  Though admittedly it looked more comical than majestic when it ran back up the hill after I opened the door to get a better picture.

I hope it comes back.