THE WILD TURKEY. 



( Meleag ris ga Hop a vo . ) 



One of the most vivid recollections of 

 my boyhood is of the time when a flock 

 of eleven Wild Turkeys, perhaps the 

 last flock to be seen in that region, came 

 into a wood near our house. I remem- 

 ber the clear call of the birds, and 

 strained my ears day after day to hear 

 it again. We boys built a rail pen and 

 covered it over and dug a trench under 

 it, and scattered corn about, after the 

 pattern of a picture we had seen in a 

 book on traps but the Turkeys never 

 came. 



In both general form and habits the 

 Wild Turkey is so similar to the well- 

 known domesticated turkey that a de- 

 tailed description of the bird would be 

 tedious ; indeed,' the domestic turkey 

 often goes half-wild and spends much 

 time running through woodlands, steal- 

 ing its nest and acting in every way like 

 the Wild Turkey. 



It must be borne in mind, however, 

 that the turkey of domestication is dif- 

 ferent in origin from our Wild Turkey. 

 To get the precise relationship between 

 the two clearly in mind it will be both 

 helpful and interesting to consider 

 briefly the history of the tame turkey. 



The early explorers of this country 

 found the turkey already in domestica- 

 tion among the Indians of Mexico. This 

 was a different species from our north- 

 ern Turkey, being paler in color, smaller 

 in size and very likely less hardy. Some 

 of these birds were taken to Europe, 

 where, under the supposition that they 

 came from Turkey they were called 

 turkey-cocks, a name later shortened to 

 its present form. Thus the name of this 

 bird, and "Indian'' serve to remind us 

 yet of a bad geography-lesson our an- 

 cestors had long ago. This bit of his- 

 tory may help explain the statement of 

 one writer who states that "the turkey 

 l)rcscnls the remarkable case of an ani- 

 mal which has decreased in size, bril- 



liancy of color and flavor through the 

 process of domestication." 



The early settlers of New England 

 found there our native Wild Turkey, a 

 larger, more brilliant bird than the bird 

 we know, and one of the largest and 

 finest game birds of the world. Using 

 the word "game" in the sense of it fur- 

 nishing sport, of putting the hunter to 

 the test of all his strategy and skill, it 

 could hardly be called a "game-bird" 

 then — possibly, however, no animal has 

 ever deserved this term until man has 

 educated them and made them wary and 

 cunning. It seems to have been a rather 

 tame business getting them at first, and 

 even after they had learned the attitude 

 of man toward them and the range of a 

 gun, they could be trapped by flocks in 

 the manner described in the beginning 

 of this article, as the Turkeys, after 

 entering the pen and eating the corn 

 would keep looking upward for some 

 opening above their heads and never dis- 

 cover the trench by which they had en- 

 tered. 



Another favorite way of getting a 

 turkey dinner was by using a turkey call, 

 which consisted of a sort of a hollow 

 tube (preferably the hollow wing bone 

 of another turkey). The hunter con- 

 cealed himself, and by placing one end 

 of the tube in the hollow of the loosely 

 clasped hands and sucking on the other 

 end, made a noise much like that of a 

 Turkey. If the scheme succeeded, some 

 old gobbler soon answered, and ap- 

 proached the supposed turkey. I re- 

 member reading an entertaining account 

 of a famous turkey-hunter who, having 

 found where a magnificent gobbler 

 ranged, started forth with his turkey 

 call. He hid behind a log and called, 

 soon an answer came clear and certain 

 from across the woods. The hunter 

 crept from ambush to ambush, calling 

 from time to time. The gobbler also 



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