Musings on Wild Turkeys
Unlike my stepfather and his clan, numerous cousins, the son I spawned, and many friends; I don’t usually look at wild animals and think: meat. Wild turkeys (Meleagris gallopavo), indigenous to North America, have become a recent exception.
Wild turkey tom. Wikimedia Commons
Perhaps it’s because they’re so abundant and because so many people in northeastern Oregon do stuff their freezers with wild game. I’m not opposed to sustainable hunting, but I don’t eat mammals. So I’d like to find something wild and local I can eat when I’m out there.
My stepfather used to hunt elk and antelope but says he doesn’t think he’d ever stoop so low as to hunt wild turkey. “You have to get down on all fours and call ‘em. And then you’d probably just attract other turkey hunters to shoot.” He and many others tell me the meat isn’t worth the trouble anyway.
By the beginning of the twentieth century, over-hunting and habitat loss decimated the wild turkey population in North America. Reintroductions, even to areas outside their former range, have since have boosted the population to the point where wild turkeys have now become serious agricultural pests.
Perhaps if they weren’t so sinewy….
Yet, even if I find a good recipe and overcome my fear of guns, I’m not sure I could kill any vertebrate, even a wild turkey. From a distance, they look drab; but up close their feathers are iridescent. And watching a male fan his tail feathers and strut is almost as good as admiring peacocks. Plus, wild turkeys make nicer sounds (see below). Although wild turkeys have a reputation for being stupid (perhaps because they stand in the middle of roads and wander into hunting camps), some claim they’re quite wily.
First Great Seal of the U.S.
In 1784, Benjamin Franklin wrote a letter to his daughter, Sally, on the merits of the wild turkey over the bald eagle as a symbol of the new USA. It may be a winking commentary on the quality of the drawing on the national seal rather than a serious recommendation for the wild turkey to take the eagle’s place. In 1775, Franklin had recommended the rattlesnake. I leave it to historians to decide Franklin’s intentions on animal symbolism. I wonder what animal the Haudenosaunee, Pequot, Shawnee and others might have chosen to represent the encroaching nation.
A Poem for Wild Turkeys
Like Franklin, wild turkeys have a lot to say and make their points in varied ways.
I discovered descriptions of turkey calls as well as audio recordings on the National Wild Turkey Federation (really) website. Inspired by these vocalizations, a Read Write Poem prompt on “memory recipes,” my family’s hunting traditions and quirky humor (especially on holidays), and my country’s odd relationship to Thanksgiving as a national holiday; I’ve assembled a found “poem.” It juxtaposes portions of Franklin’s letter with descriptions of wild turkey calls. Some might claim it butchers the idea of poetry as badly as Sarah Palin mangled her gubernatorial turkey pardon in Wasilla last year. My apologies to poets, the National Wild Turkey Federation, nationalists, vegetarians, and of course, turkeys.
Ben Franklin Writes to His Daughter; Hunters Call Wild Turkeys
(A Found Poem)*
For my own part…
The cluck consists
of one or more
short, staccato notes
used by one
bird
to get the attention of
another
…I wish the Bald
Eagle had not
been chosen
the representative of
our country.
The cackle
can be heard
when a bird is flying
up
or down
from a roost.
It’s a movement call
so
use it sparingly.
I am on this account
not displeased
that the figure
is not (seen)
as a Bald Eagle,
but looks more like
a turkey.
The gobble is one
of the principal
vocalizations of
the male
wild turkey
to let hens know
he is in
the area.
For the truth -
the turkey is,
in comparison,
a much more respectable
bird…
Cutting -
a modified cluck.
Fast, loud,
erratic single notes -
a distinct,
abrupt call
with
a somewhat questioning
nature.
…and withal
a true, original
native of
America.
The putt is
a single note,
an alarm.
and usually means
they have seen
or heard
something.
He is besides,
though a little vain
& silly,
a bird of
courage…
The kee kee
is the lost call
of young turkeys
A variation –
the kee kee run –
is merely
a kee kee with
a yelp.
…and would not
hesitate
to attack
a grenadier
of the British guards
who should presume
to invade
his farm yard
with a red coat
on.
Purring is a soft,
rolling call
turkeys make when
content,
good for reassuring
turkeys as they get in close
to your
position.
*The excerpt from Franklin’s letter is mostly intact except in the parenthesis where I replaced the word “known” with “seen” to make the intended meaning clearer. I took a few more liberties with the turkey call descriptions and chose portions of each. In one case, I rearranged the words a bit to make it parallel the others better.
Oh, what a wonderful read, the introduction as well as the poem!
I’ve known Franklin’s views, but am delighted to have them counter-posed with the calls. (Love the purring, especially.)
Excellent use of the prompt, the time of year, the familial memories. I’d been thinking to write about my one experience with wild turkey as game, but am happier reading this (as I am a wish-I-were a non-meat-eater).
Thanks Deb, for the prompt and the comments. It was a lot of fun stringing all this together. I’d like to come back to the prompt at in the future and do more with food memories. There are so many good ones.
[...] __________ Added: A Poem for Wild Turkeys. [...]
This works so well! The sound descriptions are great
Thanks Joanne. I also like the descriptions of sound a lot – very poetic.
A nifty “found” poem from a quite unlikely though quite appropriate source. You did a deft job breaking up the prose description of turkey calls and Franklin’s language to turn them into verse.
Thanks David. It was fun to bring such disparate sources together for a bit of wordplay.
It’s good to see Franklin’s words and the call info. Who knew turkeys had such a repertoire?! BF was probably quite right to think them worthy. As an Englishman, however, I’m not too keen on the attack on a grenadier guard! :0)
Thanks Derrick. Perhaps if the grenadier guard wore a different color….
You are right, wild turkey is not worth eating. Dry, not much meat, and the devil to clean! If I had to eat it I would become a vegetarian!
The poem was a fun mash – have you ever heard the noises they make in the wild. Very musical at times!
Thanks Cynthia. What you say about wild turkey meat affirms everything else I’ve heard. We have a lot of wild turkeys out in NE Oregon; I love their sounds and will be trying to sort out which is which now.
Except for the turkeys that get US Presidential pardons, the flesh most of us eat is anonymous. We don’t see its face or hear its voice. Whether it would make a difference if we did, I know not. Yet the critters we eat are fellow members of our planetary society of Life. Thanks for sharing the voice of the wild turkey with us in this poetic meditation on Franklin’s letter.
Thanks Paul. I sometimes think I might like to take more responsibility for the flesh I eat but haven’t found the courage for that yet. Musing on wild turkeys helped me think a bit more of how that omnivorous dilemmas plays out for me.
I’m left with a strong sense of the living sounds of turkey. It gives the bad finger to the turkey meal – Thanksgiving association. I can live without eating turkey. The Ben Franklin thread reinforces by giving voice to respectability to America’s native bird. It says ‘emblem, not food.’
Thanks Irene. I like your interpretation of Ben Franklin’s words. I hadn’t seen it quite like that. I wonder if he ate wild turkey. Despite all the contradictions, Thanksgiving is one of my favorite holidays because it’s secular and it calls for a gathering of family and friends around food. I admit that I eat my share of domestic turkey too.
I came via the Festival of Trees but had to comment on this post…I can’t eat turkey anymore since we moved to where the wild ones visit the yard. My neighbor has chickens and I came to like them so I can’t eat them anymore..I haven’t eaten red meat in some time… so I guess I don’t eat what I’ve come to know then? I guess it’s just me being me …strange….Michelle
I understand. I fear the same will happen to me with my soft heart and squeamish stomach. It’s easier to eat anonymous meat.