By far the finest game bird in the world, is the wild turkey of America.
It exceeds all others in size, in the ratio of two or three to one; and
in delicacy of flesh it is not excelled by either partridge, grouse, or
pheasant. The domesticated variety is much inferior to the wild, either
in bulk of body, or quality of flesh; and in the markets of the United
States, a wild turkey of equal weight with a common one, will always
command a much higher price--partly from the greater scarcity of the
dish, but as much on account of its superior delicacy.
Before proceeding to hunt the wild turkey, some account of the habits of
this beautiful bird may not be out of place. He stands--for we speak
more particularly of the "gobbler," or cock--full four feet on his
robust red legs: while his wings, which are rather short in proportion
to his bulk, have a spread of about five. When of largest size, he
weighs forty pounds avoirdupois. His body is finely proportioned, with
a small head and tapering neck. In shape, he is far superior to his
loose, high shouldered representative of the farm-yard, and more
resembles his proud congener, the peacock; while in colour, although not
so gaudy as the latter, still is he an hundred times more brilliant than
his tame congener, that now for more than three centuries has been
reduced to companionship with civilised man, and naturalised in almost
every country upon the globe.
The general tints of the wild turkey-gobbler are purple and rich brown;
but his close-lying plumes exhibit many other colours, frequently a
beautiful violet gleaming upon them, according to the light in which the
sun is reflected from their surface. The plumage all over presents a
fine metallic lustre, which in most other birds is chiefly conspicuous
on the gorget, breast, and shoulders. The neck is not so destitute of
downy feathers as in the tame variety--having the skin and wart-like
protuberances of a purplish blue colour, while the wattle proceeding
from the crown is also furnished with a slight sprinkling of down; and
when the bird is excited, either by anger or by amorous propensity, this
appendage becomes so elongated as to cover the beak, and hang several
inches below it.
The tuft, resembling horse hair, which grows out from the junction of
the neck and breast, in a wild turkey-cock of full size, is often nearly
a foot in length! but for what purpose the bird has been furnished with
this curious "tresa" is one of the mysteries of nature.
The geographical range of this fine bird is longitudinally extensive.
Its northern boundary may be regarded as the British possessions, while
to the south it is found as far as the Isthmus of Panama. The wild
turkey is often spoken of by, not very observant, travellers who have
visited South America; but the supposition is, that the birds mentioned
by these writers, were some of the larger species of the _Cracidae_ or
_curraesows_.
It is also probable that the beautiful ocellated turkey of Southern
Mexico and Central America, may be an inhabitant of the countries south
of Panama: as the same circumstances of soil, climate, and vegetation
exist there, as in the habitat where it is found.
Latitudinally, the wild turkey was supposed not to extend beyond the
line of the Rocky Mountains. This is an error. Although there is no
account of its being met with near the Pacific coast of California, yet
has it been shot upon the Gila River, which lies westward of the
Cordillera.
Throughout all the original United States territory--the great
forest-covered tract between the Mississippi and the Atlantic--it was
one of the commonest birds in the times of the early settlements; and it
is still far from rare, in those parts of the States where large patches
of woodland extend between the sparse plantations.
Westward of the Mississippi, on the "timber" prairies--especially those
interspersed with copses of _pecan_ and hickory-trees, as also some of
the acorn-bearing oaks--wild turkeys may be often encountered in flocks
of from eighty to a hundred.
It has hitherto been taken for granted, that only two species of wild
turkey (_meleagris_) existed:--that properly so called, and the
ocellated, or "Honduras turkey," already mentioned Of course, the
_tallegalla_, or "wattled" turkey of Australia, is not taken into
account in this enumeration: nor the common barn-yard breed, which has
always been regarded as the mere domesticated variety of the _meleagris
gullipavo_.
Discoveries, however, have lately been made by naturalists, which go far
to prove that the wild turkey of North America is not only a distinct
species from the domestic bird, but that the latter is of itself only
distantly related to another species, equally distinct from the wild
turkeys of the United States country east of the Mississippi.
That which has been found throughout Mexico--and northward upon the
Gila, and the elevated table plains on both sides of the Rio del Norte--
in short, throughout the Rocky Mountain district--differs in many
respects from the bird of the Alleghanian forests. It is even plausibly
proved that our tame turkey could not have descended from the wild
species of the Atlantic States--one of the arguments being, that all
attempts hitherto made to reduce the latter to the condition of a
dunghill fowl--and they have been many--have ended in complete failure.
It is certain that the European breed was not brought from the United
States. It was introduced as early as the year 1530, and must therefore
have been transported across the Atlantic by the Spaniards--either from
Mexico or the West India islands.
The Mexican wild species--if it be a different species--is in some
respects more like the tame variety than that of the north-eastern
portion of the Continent; and it is more probable, in every way, that
the former is the progenitor of the domestic breed.
Another hypothesis is, that on their arrival in the West Indies, the
Spaniards found tame turkeys stalking about the huts of the islanders;
and that it was from these they obtained the breed, since propagated
over the whole civilised world; and that the domesticated variety, as we
term it, is not sprung from either of the wild breeds--Mexican or
North-American--but is a distinct species in itself.
This hypothesis, or speculation, is not without probability: since the
bird of the barn-yard, instead of being an improvement, even in bulk,
upon the wild species, is in reality a retrograded and inferior
creature.
If the theory be correct, there would be four distinct species of
turkey--the American, the Mexican, the ocellated, and the tame--to say
nothing of the queer _tallegalla_, or "wattled" turkey of Australia.
Space does not allow me to dwell long upon the habits of this bird.
Suffice it to say that, like all the _gallinaceae_, the wild turkey is
gregarious, and is seen in large flocks or "gangs," often numbering as
many as a hundred. These flocks are differently constituted at
different periods of the year.
In October they congregate into large promiscuous assemblages: that is,
males, females, and young ones, better than half-grown, grouping
together. They seek their food, which consists chiefly of vegetable
substances, as berries, seeds, and grasses; but they do not confine
themselves to an exclusively vegetable diet, and will greedily devour
beetles, grubs, and even tadpoles, young frogs, and lizards.
Like all birds, at this season of the year they are in greatest
numbers--the young broods having become fully fledged, and each counting
from ten to fifteen in a family. Up to the time that the young are able
to take care of themselves, the females keep them apart from the old
males, which would otherwise destroy them, by repeatedly pecking them on
the skull.
It is only as the autumn advances well into October, that all ages and
sexes unite to form the large gangs; and for this reason October is the
"turkey month" of the Indians.
Throughout the fall and winter they associate together making long
journeys across the country, rarely taking to wing, except when sprung
by wolves, foxes, or hunting-dogs, or when it becomes necessary for them
to make the passage of a river; for, like all migrating creatures, they
do not permit any impediment to interrupt the course on which design or
instinct impels them.
When about to effect the crossing of a river, they seek the highest
eminence on the nether bank, and remain there sometimes for two or three
days before making the attempt. The males at such times gobble most
obstreperously, and strut over the ground with all the importance
imaginable: as if to inspire the females and the young with courage for
the undertaking. Even the females take part in these demonstrations,
lowering their wings and spreading their tails, in imitation of their
lordly mates.
After this sort of play has been carried on for a considerable time, the
whole flock flies up to the highest branches of the adjacent trees; and
then, at a signal given by one acting as leader, all fly out over the
water--directing their flight toward the opposite bank.
The old and strong birds easily effect the crossing; but the younger and
more feeble individuals of the gang frequently fall into the water. Not
always, however, to be drowned; as they can swim tolerably well--which
they do by spreading their tails, folding their wings close to their
bodies, protruding their long necks far above the surface, and
alternately plying their feet in strong, rapid strokes.
Sometimes all do not succeed in reaching the bank. A few of the very
feeblest, unable to swim with sufficient speed, get carried down by the
current, and ultimately perish.
This is the winter life of the wild turkeys, when they become fat,
changing their bulk from fifteen or twenty pounds--which, is their
average weight--to thirty, and sometimes forty.
On the return of spring--in March--the females coquettishly separate
themselves from the males; though the latter continue in flocks,
following the former from place to place. Then commences the season of
their loves; and though the sexes roost apart, their roosting-places are
near each other. At this time the woods become animated by their
vociferous calling; and if a female bird utters her note within hearing,
it is taken up by scores of males, not with the gobble used by them on
other occasions, but with an imitative cry, such as may be heard among
their tame congeners of the farm-yard.
This calling is usually heard before the break of day; and as soon as
the sun has fairly risen, the males descend from the trees, and commence
strutting over the ground, with spread tail and wings, uttering at
intervals the "tsut" peculiar to the species.
On such occasions two males meet, and then ensues a fight, ending in the
defeat--often even the death--of the weaker. The conqueror is then
joined by the female--or, more generally, females--that have been the
object of this deadly rivalry; and, during the next month or so, he
holds these as his harem, roosting by or near them, and performing the
duties of a protector. In time, however, they become shy of him--
stealing off to deposit their eggs; which, should he chance to discover
them, will be instantly broken by the blows of his paternal beak!
The nest consists of a few dried leaves, collected carelessly on the
ground--sometimes among the tops of a fallen tree, sometimes on a dry
hillock in a thicket of sumach or bramble, or by the side of a dead log.
As already stated, the wild turkey is still to be found within the
limits of the old States of the American Union. It is more common in
the Mississippi Valley, where it is still possible to obtain these birds
in considerable numbers.
The usual mode of capturing them is by a trap--known as a turkey-trap--a
contrivance of the simplest kind.
A square enclosure, of some six or eight feet wide, is constructed--the
materials being split pieces of timber--usually the ordinary fence-rail,
which is always eight feet in length.
These, resting at right angles on one another, form a rectangular
enclosure, which, when carried up to the height of six or seven feet, is
covered in by the same sort of rails, laid at regular intervals along
the top. Care is taken that the spaces between them be not wide enough
to permit the passage of a turkey; and the top rails are also secured by
a heavy log, which hinders the bird--strong though he be--from forcing
them out of their place. The trap is constructed on the declivity of a
hill; and on the lower side, a cut or tunnel is excavated, leading under
the bottom rail, inwards. The cut is then continued for a few yards
down the slope, when it runs out to the common level of the ground.
This being completed, the trap is ready for work, and only requires
baiting.
This is done by laying a train of maize (Indian corn), a hundred yards
or so in length--commencing at any point in the woods, and carried along
a line until it enters the hollowed way to the enclosure. Inside, a
larger quantity of the corn is scattered, lying conspicuously upon the
floor of the gigantic cage.
The gang of turkeys, taking their morning stroll, chance to come upon
the train of scattered maize. They soon gobble up the few grains
sparsely distributed outside; and step by step approach the enclosure.
They are not shy of the rude structure; for often have they wandered
along the side of a rail-fence, or flopped over it, to commit
devastation on the maize-crops of the planter. Even his corn-bins have
not deterred them from pilfering his garnered crops. What else can this
penn be, but a remote corn-bin in the middle of the woods, with the
unhusked maize removed from it, leaving a few scattered grains upon the
ground?
The little ravine conducts them under the lowermost rail. They enter
without hesitation--without fear; and it is only after they have
"gobbled" up the grains that seduced them inside, that they begin to
think of continuing their stroll through the forest.
Then, for the first time, does the thought occur to any of them, that
they are in a trap. It soon occurs, not only to one, but to all: and a
fearful fluttering and screaming takes place, with a confusion of ideas,
that prevents the oldest and wisest gobbler of the gang from finding his
way out again.
With their eyes elevated far above the level of the excavated trench,
they never think of looking downward; and after spending hours,
sometimes even days, inside the cunningly-contrived trap, they are at
length released by the arrival of the trapper--but only to be
transferred to the spit or the market-stall, with the dinner-table as
their ultimate destination.
In America, as in England, turkey is the chosen dish of the Christmas
dinner-table--in America even more than in England. There, whatever
else there may be of nick-nacks, _entrees_, and _hors d'oeuvres_,
turkey, roast or boiled, holds the prominent place--is the _piece de
resistance_ of the banquet. He is but a poor man indeed in that once
great--to be hoped still great--republic, who could not have a turkey
for his Christmas dinner.
Upon that most interesting holiday, the humblest artisan in America may
dine upon tame turkey; but the greater luxury--the wild bird, with its
dark flesh and game flavour--the true _meleagris_, trapped or taken from
his remote forest feeding-ground--smokes only on the table of the
citizen who has been more than ordinarily successful in the pursuits of
life.
There may the wild turkey be seen, in all the perfection of size,
succulence, and savour.
If old Buffon, the charlatan naturalist of France, could have but eaten
a slice of the _meleagris_ under such circumstances, he might, perhaps,
have conceded to the birds of America some of the good qualities which
he has so recklessly denied them.
But the palate of this presumptuous curator of moth-eaten remains, had
never been indulged with the delicate flavour of a canvas-back duck, a
"reed-bird," a grouse of the prairies, or a wild turkey trapped amidst
the solitudes of an American forest.
He had studied their habits only at second-hand, while their bright
hues, their sweet songs, and their many other valuable qualities, he
could only deduce, or deny, from the stuffed and damaged skins seen by
him in a "royal collection."
With such superiority of flesh, it is scarcely necessary to say, that
there are people who make it their business to procure the wild turkey,
and send the bird to market. There are a few men throughout the United
States who follow this business as an exclusive calling; but more often
the turkey is obtained as part of the game-bag of the regular
deer-hunter, and by him sold to the consumer.
The gun is used, as with other game-birds; and when it is a
fowling-piece, buck-shot--the swan-shot of European countries--is the
kind necessarily required to kill such a large, strong bird. The
regular deer-hunter, however, never thinks of carrying a fowling-piece;
and his pea-rifle, with a barrel of nearly five feet in length, and
bored for a bullet not much larger than the buck-shot itself, is with
him the weapon for turkeys, deer, wolves, bears, panthers, and even
Indians--if need be.
There's still another method of hunting the turkey, practised on the
prairies; and that is with horses and hounds!
My young readers will no doubt be surprised to hear that a wild turkey,
with wings over five feet in spread, can be captured by dogs. But such
is the fact; as I can assure them, by having myself ridden in many a
chase of the sort, and more than once have I had the good fortune to be
"in at the death."