54 
THE WILD TURKEY. 
after resting a little, it would sail to the opposite shore, the river being there 
nearly half a mile wide, and return towards night. One morning I saw it 
fly off, at a very early hour, to the woods, in another direction, and took no 
particular notice of the circumstance. Several days elapsed, but the bird 
did not return. I was going towards some lakes near Green river to shoot, 
when, having walked about five miles, I saw a fine large gobbler cross the 
path before me, moving leisurely along. Turkeys being then in prime 
condition for the table, I ordered my dog to chase it, and put it up. The 
animal went off with great rapidity, and as it approached the Turkey, I saw, 
with great surprise, that the latter paid little attention. Juno'was on the 
point of seizing it, when she suddenly stopped, and turned her head towards 
me. I hastened to them, but you may easily conceive my surprise when I 
saw my own favorite bird, and discovered that it had recognised the dog, 
and would not fly from it ; although the sight of a strange dog would have 
caused it to run off at once. A friend of mine happening to be in search of 
a wounded deer, took the bird on his saddle before him, and carried it home 
for me. The following spring it was accidentally shot, having been taken 
for a wild bird, and brought to me on being recognised by the red ribbon 
which it had around its neck. Pray, reader, by w r hat word will you 
designate the recognition made by my favourite Turkey of a dog which had 
been long associated with it in the yard and grounds ? Was it the result ot 
instinct or of l'eason, — an unconsciously revived impression, or the act of an 
intelligent mind ? 
At the time when I removed to Kentucky, rather more than a fourth of 
a century ago, Turkeys were so abundant, that the price of one in the 
market w r as not equal to that of a common barn-fowl now. I have seen 
them offered for the sum of three pence each, the birds weighing from ten 
to twelve pounds. A first-rate Turkey, weighing from twenty-five to thirty 
pounds avoirdupois, was considered well sold when it brought a quarter of a 
dollar. 
The weight of Turkey hens generally averages about nine pounds 
avoirdupois. I have, however, shot barren hens in strawberry season that 
weighed thirteen pounds, and have seen a few so fat as to burst open on 
falling from a tree when shot. Male Turkeys differ more in their bulk and 
weight. From fifteen to eighteen pounds may be a fair estimate of their 
ordinary weight. I saw one offered for sale in the Louisville market that 
weighed thirty-sis pounds. Its pectoral appendage measured upwards of a 
foot. 
Some closet naturalists suppose the hen Turkey to be destitute of the 
appendage on the breast, but this is not the case in the full-grown bird. 
The young males, as I have said, at the approach of the first winter, have 
