THE WILD TURKEY. 47 



she never moves, unless she knows that she has been discovered, but 

 crouches lower until he has passed. I have frequently approached within 

 five or six paces of a nest, of which I was previously aware, on assuming an 

 air of carelessness, and whistling or talking to myself, the female remaining 

 undisturbed; whereas if I went cautiously towards it, she would never suffer 

 me to approach within twenty paces, but would run off, with her tail spread 

 on one side, to a distance of twenty or thirty yards, when assuming a stately 

 gait, she would walk about deliberately, uttering every now and then a 

 cluck. They seldom abandon their nest, when it has been discovered by 

 men; but, I believe, never go near it again when a snake or other animal 

 has sucked any of the eggs. If the eggs have been destroyed or carried off, 

 the female soon yelps again for a male; but, in general, she rears only a 

 single brood each season. Several hens sometimes associate together, I 

 believe for their mutual safety, deposit their eggs in the same nest, and rear 

 their broods together. I once found three sitting on forty-two eggs. In 

 such cases, the common nest is always watched by one of the females, so 

 that no Crow, Raven, or perhaps even Pole-cat, dares approach it. 



The mother will not leave her eggs, when near hatching, under any 

 circumstances, while life remains. She will even allow an enclosure to be 

 made around her, and thus suffer imprisonment, rather than abandon them. 

 I once witnessed the hatching of a brood of Turkeys, which I watched for 

 the purpose of securing them together with the parent. I concealed myself 

 on the ground within a very few feet, and saw her raise herself half the 

 length of her legs, look anxiously upon the eggs, cluck with a sound peculiar 

 to the mother on such occasions, carefully remove each half-empty shell, 

 and with her bill caress and dry the young birds, that already stood totter- 

 ing and attempting to make their way out of the nest. Yes, I have seen 

 this, and have left mother and young to better care than mine could have 

 proved, — to the care of their Creator and mine. I have seen them all 

 emerge from the shell, and, in a few moments after, tumble, roll, and push 

 each other forward, with astonishing and inscrutable instinct. 



Before leaving the nest with her young brood, the mother shakes herself 

 in a violent manner, picks and adjusts the feathers about her belly, and 

 assumes quite a different aspect. She alternately inclines her eyes obliquely 

 upwards and sideways, stretching out her neck, to discover hawks or other 

 enemies, spreads her wings a little as she walks, and softly clucks to keep 

 her innocent offspring close to her. They move slowly along, and as the 

 hatching generally takes place in the afternoon, they frequently return to 

 the nest to spend the first night there. After this, they remove to some 

 distance, keeping on the highest undulated grounds, the mother dreading 

 rainy weather, which is extremely dangerous to the young, in this tender 



