Habits of the Wild Turkey. 
5 r 5 
emit the first and last 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 tails, 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 blows 
inflicted upon the head by the stronger. The moment a rival is dead the conqueror treads him 
under foot, but what is strange, not with hatred, but with all the motions which he employs in 
caressing the female. 
“About the middle of April, when the season is dry, the hens begin to look out for a place to 
deposit their eggs. This place requires to be as much as possible concealed from the eyes of the 
crow, as that bird watches the Turkey when going to her nest, and, waiting in the neighbourhood 
until she has left it, removes and eats the eggs. The nest, which consists of a few withered leaves, 
is placed on the ground, in a hollow scooped out by the side of the log, or in the fallen top of a dry 
leafy tree under a thicket of sumach or briars, or a few feet within the edge of a cornbrake, but 
always in a dry place. When laying her eggs the female approaches her nest very cautiously, 
scarcely ever following the same track twice, and when she leaves them covers them so carefully with 
leaves that it is very difficult for any person to find the nest, unless the mother has been suddenly 
started from it. When on her nest, if she perceives an enemy, she sits still and crouches low until 
the intruder has passed by, unless she is aware that she has been discovered. I have frequently 
approached within five or six paces of a nest, of which I was previously aware, 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 now and then a cluck.” 
He describes the actual hatching-out of a brood, which he once witnessed, as follows : 
“ I concealed myself on the ground, within a very few feet, and saw the female 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 tottering and attempting to make their way from the nest. I saw them 
all emerge from the shell, and in a few moments after tumble, roll, and push each other forward, 
with astonishing and inscrutable instinct.” 
On the subject of domestication Audubon clearly states that the wild Turkey frequently feeds, 
breeds, and associates with the tame ones, the owners of which do all in their power to facilitate 
such unions, the half-bred bird being much hardier in constitution. He gives an interesting 
account of a wild gobbler of his own, which we quote. “ While at Henderson,” he says, “ I had 
among other birds a fine male turkey, which had been reared from its earliest youth under my 
care, it having been caught by me when probably not more than two or three days old. It became 
so tame that it would follow any person who called it, and was the favourite of the little village ; 
yet it would never roost with the tame turkeys, but regularly betook itself at night to the roof of 
the house, where it remained till dawn. When two years old it began to fly to the woods, where it 
