The Turkey. 307 
Turkeys, which is there a considerable branch of trade, 
is brought to great perfection ; and some weighing up- 
wards of twenty pounds each have been raised there. 
They appear to have a natural antipathy to everything of 
a red colour. 
Though extremely prone to quarrel among themselves, 
they are, in general, weak and cowardly against other 
animals, and fly from almost every creature that ventures 
to oppose them. On the contrary, they pursue every- 
thing that appears to dread them, particularly small dogs 
and children; and after having made these objects of 
their aversion scamper, they evince their pride and sa- 
tisfaction by displaying their plumage, strutting about 
among' their female train, and uttering their peculiar note 
of self-approbation. Some instances, however, have oc- 
curred, in which the Turkey-cock has exhibited a consi- 
derable share of courage and prowess ; as will appear 
from the following anecdote : — A gentleman of New 
York received from a distant part a Turkey-cock and 
hen, and with them a pair of bantams ; which were 
put all together into the yard with his other poultry. 
Some time afterwards, as he was feeding them from the 
barn-door, a large hawk suddenly turned the corner of 
the barn, and made a pounce at the bantam hen : she 
immediately gave the alarm, by a noise which is natural 
to her on such occasions ; when the Turkey-cock, who 
was at the distance of about two yards, and without 
doubt understood the hawk's intention, flew at the tyrant, 
with such violence, and gave him so severe a stroke with 
his spurs, as to knock him from the hen to a considerable 
distance ; by which means the bantam was rescued from 
destruction. 
The wild Turkey-cock is, in the American forests, 
an object of considerable interest. It perches on the 
tops of the deciduous cypress and magnolia : 
" On the top 
Of yon magnolia, the loud Turkey's voice 
Is heralding the dawn : from tree to tree 
Extends the wakening watch-note far and wide, 
Till the whole woodlands echo with the cry." 
Southey. 
