240 



Turkeys. 



Vol. XII. 



Turkeys. 



If we call to mind the many and valuable 

 acquisitions from both the animal and vege- 

 table kingdom which have been made sub- 

 Bervient to the use of man within compara- 

 tively a very recent period, it is not too much 

 to believe that others, of nearly or quite 

 equal value, still remain to reward the la- 

 bour and pains of a persevering search. 

 There is the whole of central Africa, central 

 Australia, great part of China and northern 

 India, — which have already afforded us so 

 much — and innumerable half-explored or un- 

 explored islands, all waiting to be ransacked 

 for our benefit. And without depending upon 

 those distant regions, we know not yet what 

 we may find at home; seeing that the deli- 

 cious Sea kale — an esculent whose merits 

 are yet unknown to many a family of com- 

 petent means, living in retirement — has only 

 within the last few years sprung up under 

 our very feet; and the Capercali, by an easy 

 importation, has been rescued from extinc- 

 tion in Great Britain. 



Amongst the living tributaries to the lux- 

 ury of man, the turkey is an example of the 

 results yet to be expected from the exploring 

 spirit of our day. It is the most recent, and, 

 except the hen and the goose, the most valu- 

 able of our domesticated birds. We may, 

 indeed, call it quite a new introduction ; for 

 what, after all, is a period of 300 years, 

 compared with the time during which man 

 has had dominion over the earth and its 

 brute inhabitants'! The obscurity which 

 hangs over the transmission of the turkey 

 from America, and which there is little 

 chance of clearing away, except by indus- 

 trious ferreting amongst old family records 

 and memorandum books, shows that those 

 who brought it to the old world had no idea 

 of the value of what they were importing; 

 but probably regarded it like any other re- 

 markable production of nature — a macaw or 

 a tortoise. The young would be distributed 

 among friends with the same feeling that 

 golden pheasants and such like are with us; 

 these again would thrive and increase, and 

 the nation would suddenly find itself in the 

 possession of a race, not of pleasing pets, 

 but of valuable, prolific, and hardy stock of 

 poultry. Such I take to be the history of 

 the turkey in England; and the Zoological 

 and Ornithological Societies may hereafter 

 find that some creature that was disregard- 

 ed, or undervalued, or even yet unobtained, 

 will prove unexpectedly domestic and profit- 

 able — it may be the Cereopsis, some of the 

 Indian Polylectrons, or the elegant Hondu- 

 ras turkey; — to further which great object 

 of their association they cannot do better 



than communicate spare specimens, on the 

 most liberal and encouraging terms, to such 

 persons as they believe competent fairly to 

 test their value. 



The varieties of the domesticated turkey 

 are not very distinct. The most so is the 

 Norfolk; the others may all be swept into 

 what is called the Cambridge breed — thus 

 including the bustard and Dutch copper-co- 

 loured breeds, which, however, is as much 

 cultivated in Norfolk as the old local stock, 

 and birds of which kind often pass for true 

 Norfolks, because they have been procured 

 from ti)at county. The real Norfolk turkey 

 is more hardy, but less ornamental than the 

 others, and of smaller size. It is entirely 

 black, except the red skin about the head, 

 and a brownish tip to the feathers of the 

 tail and some of those of the back. This 

 gives the bird a rusty appearance, like an 

 old piece of well-worn cotton velvet. The 

 Cambridge sort, when black, have a beauti- 

 fully shining blueish tinge, like a well-pol- 

 ished boot. The chicks of the Norfolks are 

 black, with occasionally white patches about 

 the head ; those of the Cambridge variety 

 are mottled all over with a brownish grey, 

 and are of taller and slenderer proportions. 

 The white individuals of either variety are 

 accidental ; this colour is scarcely permanent 

 in their offspring; they are tender, not pleas- 

 ing to every eye, and altogether not to be 

 recommended. The plumage of the Cam- 

 bridge breed varies very much ; sometimes 

 it is entirely made up of shades of reddish 

 brown and grey, when it is called the bus- 

 tard breed ; sometimes of grey, black, and 

 white, but frequently it approaches very 

 nearly to what we see figured as the wild 

 bird. In the "Naturalist's Library," the 

 hen of the wild turkey, copied from Audu- 

 bon, is represented with a hairy tuft like that 

 of the cock hanging from her breast. I have 

 not seen this in the tame variety. A hen in 

 my possession that will be four years old 

 next spring (1848) has no symptom of its 

 appearance. The reason why the turkeys 

 seen in our poultry yards do not vie in splen- 

 dor of plumage with their untamed brethren, 

 is that we do not let them live long enough. 

 A creature that does not attain its full growth 

 till its fifth or sixth year, we kill at the latest 

 in the second, to the evident deterioration of 

 our stock. But let three or four well select- 

 ed Cambridge turkeys be retained to their 

 really adult state, and well fed meanwhile, 

 and they will quite recompense their keeper 

 by their beauty in full plumage, by their 

 glancing hues of gilded green and purple, 

 their lovely shades of brown, bronze and 

 black, and the pearly lustre that radiates 

 from their polished feathers. In default of 



