44 THE WILD TURKEY. 



tail as a support, stretch forward their neck, and, striking out their legs with 

 great vigour, proceed rapidly towards the shore; on approaching which, 

 should they find it too steep for landing, they cease their exertions for a few 

 moments, float down the stream until they come to an accessible part, and 

 by a violent effort generally extricate themselves from the water. It is 

 remarkable, that immediately after thus crossing a large stream, they ramble 

 about for some time, as if bewildered. In this state, they fall an easy prey 

 to the hunter. 



When the Turkeys arrive in parts where the mast is abundant, they 

 separate into smaller flocks, composed of birds of all ages and both sexes, 

 promiscuously mingled, and devour all before them. This happens about 

 the middle of November. So gentle do they sometimes become after these 

 long journeys, that they have been seen to approach the farm-houses, asso- 

 ciate with the domestic fowls, and enter the stables and corn-cribs in quest 

 of food. In this way, roaming about the forests, and feeding chiefly on 

 mast, they pass the autumn and part of the winter. 



As early as the middle of February, they begin to experience the impulse 

 of propagation. The females separate, and fly from the males. The latter 

 strenuously pursue, and begin to gobble or to utter the notes of exultation. 

 The sexes roost apart, but at no great distance from each other. When a 

 female utters a call-note, all the gobblers within hearing return the sound, 

 rolling note after note with as much rapidity as if they intended to emit the 

 last and the first together, not with spread tail, as when fluttering round the 

 females on the ground, or practising on the branches of the trees on which 

 they have roosted for the night, but much in the manner of the domestic 

 Turkey, when an unusual or unexpected noise elicits its singular hubbub. 

 If the call of the female comes from the ground, all the males immediately 

 fly towards the spot, and the moment they reach it, whether the hen be in 

 sight or not, spread out and erect their tail, draw the head back on the 

 shoulders, depress their wings with a quivering motion, and strut pompously 

 about, emitting at the same time a succession of puffs from the lungs, and 

 stopping now and then to listen and look. But whether they spy the 

 female or not, they continue to puff and strut, moving with as much celerity 

 as their ideas of ceremony seem to admit. While thus occupied, the males 

 often encounter each other, in which case desperate battles take place, ending 

 in bloodshed, and often in the loss of many lives, the weaker falling under 

 the repeated blows inflicted upon their head by the stronger. 



I have often been much diverted, while watching two males in fierce 

 conflict, by seeing them move alternately backwards and forwards, as either 

 had obtained a better hold, their wings drooping, their tails partly raised, 

 their body-feathers ruffled, and their heads covered with blood. If, as they 



